Sacrifice for the Side of Light
by Marj123
Summary: Albus Dumbledore has taken the motto of 'For the Greater Good.' If sacrificing just one child can save thousands of lives, surely it is only logical and rational to do so. He cares for Harry Potter, of course, but it's for the Greater Good, - isn't it?
1. Chapter 1

_Summary__: Albus Dumbledore has taken the motto of 'For the Greater Good.' If sacrificing just one child can save thousands of lives, surely it is only logical and rational to do so. He cares for Harry Potter, of course, but it's for the Greater Good, - isn't it?_

_This story is the first in the Sacrifice Series. It begins in the Summer after Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts. There are variations to Canon from a few days after the end of the Triwizard Tournament._

_Terminology:__ Anirage is the technical name for Wizardkind, (at least in my stories) Aniragi is the ancient language, and an Aniragia is a wizarding area such as Diagon Alley. _

_Warning__: The story contains an account of rape. Although not a cheerful story, it does not end badly. M rated for mature readers.___

_Disclaimers:__ Harry Potter and his world is owned by J. K. Rowling. Some ideas have been borrowed from fanfiction writers, such as that the Potters were an old Pureblood family, and the detail of 'Freak' cut into the child's chest. _

_**_

_**Chapter 1**__:_

Albus Dumbledore studied the words of two prophecies, the original, and the one that Sybil Trelawney had suddenly proclaimed in the middle of dinner. It was the Summer school holidays, so luckily, only he, Trelawney, Filch and Snape had been present. Both Filch and Snape were totally loyal to him, and as Trelawney never had any memory of her rare true prophecies, it could be kept very quiet. The original prophecy regarding Harry Potter had been published in the Daily Prophet just days after the conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament. Days after the boy's blood had been used in the magic that had returned Voldemort to a human body, and by all accounts, a perfectly functional human body.

The original Prophecy: _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches - born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the 7th month dies.............and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not....and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives....the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the 7th month dies._

Prophecies were often ambiguous, and experts disagreed as to the exact meaning of this one. Dumbledore had known the Prophecy for many years, and it had always seemed clear that the boy must be groomed to face Voldemort, whether or not he died doing so. He'd had it in mind for a very long time. It was why the orphaned toddler had been placed with the Dursleys who didn't want him, even with subconscious suggestions implanted that they were to instil in the child the conviction that he was worthless, - a freak.

He'd stopped the uncle from physically abusing him once he was eight, after the child had fronted a policeman and coolly asked to go to an orphanage instead please. He'd healed the scars then, as well, - the whip scars and the knife scars. Not the emotional scars. They served a purpose. The deep feeling of worthlessness instilled would make him that much more likely to be willing to take on the burden, - even if it meant his own death.

It was hard to know how much the child remembered of that early abuse, - he'd never spoken of it as far as Dumbledore knew, - not to anyone, though each Summer, he'd begged not to return. Each time, Dumbledore had kindly explained that he had to return, for his own protection. He always showed his 'genial grandfather' face to Harry, who was starved for the affection and caring of an adult. That image served Dumbledore so well. He was viewed as omniscient, benign, caring. He was the wise old leader of the Side of Light. Mind-Magic helped, of course, and he was an expert. His wand was always in his sleeve, as, although he could work the magic without a verbal incantation, it was not one of the few things he could do without a wand. Magic to ensure loyalty, magic so that people did not question, magic so that people believed in his wisdom. Even when his decisions turned out badly, they were apt to think that he had a hidden objective, or that lesser people were simply not privy to all the facts.

Dumbledore was quite happy with his weapon at that point. The boy had courage enough. That was certain. It had been a surprise that he'd tried to refuse to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, but a few days in the Hospital Wing suffering from excruciating headaches had convinced him that it was truly a 'binding magical contract,' as the wise old headmaster assured him.

And now this: _Victory for the Side of Light... Victory before the leaves fall........ Victory this year..... A Sacrifice..... This Victory depends on the sacrifice of the Marked One. Betrayed by his friends, hurt by his enemy. Subject to the Rite of Cerlikh........ When innocence is defiled, when understanding comes, his anger will be unleashed, his power released...... His anger is the key... The Marked Child of Light must know the Dark in order to vanquish the Lord of the Dark. The innocent child, shining white, in his sixteenth year, at the full of the moon. Victory for the Side of Light before the leaves fall. Shame for the Side of Light..... Shame! The innocent child lost and broken.... The Child of Light lost and broken.... _

Trelawney had ended with a sob of grief, before abruptly coming to herself and fumbling with her eating utensils.

Dumbledore had fought for years against the Dark Lord. It offended him that there was another wizard seen as powerful as he was. He spent a lot of time that evening considering how to proceed. That Voldemort was to be defeated so much earlier than he'd expected. Soon. It could save hundreds, _thousands_ of lives, including his own. Potter would be fifteen in just a few days, - his sixteenth year. The _Rite of Cerlikh _was an almost forgotten dark spell, designed to steal the power from another wizard, along with his 'innocence.'

Sexual intercourse had always been a part of ancient rites, and some of those elaborate ceremonial spells were very powerful, - group spells usually, requiring more than one wizard to work the magic. The _Rite of Cerlikh _was almost forgotten_. _Not because it was illegal, but because it seldom worked, and was dangerous for the perpetrator. There were elaborate preparations needed, the sacrifice had to be virgin, boy or girl, - _shining white. _ Dumbledore knew what that referred to, - there was a spell he'd used often when he'd been twenty years younger. To shine white, the subject had to be not only virgin, but never to have even kissed with passion. Even that spell was illegal, more because it was an invasion of privacy than because it was particularly harmful.

Would Potter qualify? He'd been a hero the previous year, after he'd faced the dragon. Girls had been flocking around him, though he'd never seen him with any aside from the Granger girl. Surprising if he hadn't had some experience. And yet, maybe with his deprived upbringing..... Without anyone to love him, he was probably uncomfortable with touch. He might even fear touch, subconsciously connecting it with imminent pain.

Dumbledore shook his head. Fancy Dursley carving 'Freak' into the boy's flesh! He hadn't really intended the abuse to go quite that far, though it suited his purposes. The boy's sacrifices had always been for a reason. For the greater good, and so that Dumbledore could take credit for being the Saviour of the Wizarding World without actually taking any risks.

****

Harry regarded the clothing that he'd stolen from a charity bin. A little shabby, but it would fit him far better than Dudley's castoffs. He hoped he wouldn't get into trouble for it. It was a long time since he'd been whipped, but he very well remembered the feel of it. The whip was still there in Vernon's wardrobe.

He was in the laundry at the back of the house when he heard Petunia shout, "Boy! Come here at once."

He answered immediately, "Yes, Aunt Petunia," and quickly tucked the clothing under some of Dudley's outsize shirts. It was his job to do the washing, so the 'new' things wouldn't come to light for at least a little while.

He stared at Professor Snape in disbelief when he found him standing beside Aunt Petunia, who was looking frightened and resentful. Snape was dressed in Muggle clothing, but still looked every inch the powerful, intimidating wizard. Snape looked down his nose at him, and sneered, "Not very presentable, are you, Potter?"

"I beg your pardon, Sir." Harry used the respectful, non-combative tone that worked best with abusive adults, whether his Aunt Vernon or Dumbledore's puppet, Professor Snape.

Snape's sneer seemed to deepen, and he pulled out his wand. Automatically, Harry stepped back, and Snape said, "Dumbledore sent me. I need to do a few diagnostic spells, make sure you're being looked after. You did complain about returning here, if you remember."

Harry flinched, and glanced at his aunt. Did Snape_ want_ him to be beaten?

Snape muttered an indistinguishable incantation, and Harry's skin glowed a bright white. Petunia gave a squeak of fright, while Snape studied the glow, looking for flaws of colour. Abruptly he snapped, "Take off your shirt."

Harry hesitated, glaring at the professor. Snape was impatient, but explained, "If you're truly being neglected, the headmaster may need to make different arrangements." Well, that was an incentive... Harry removed his shirt. There was still the white glow, with the pure light showing around him.

Abruptly, Snape waved his wand again, ending the spell. Purest virgin, poor boy, suitable for the rite. He took a step closer, and studied him. Voldemort had to be tempted to take the risk. Face acceptable enough, though the glasses were hideous. His vision should really have been corrected years before. Getting Voldemort to decide to perform the risky magic was going to be the tricky part, but the headmaster was nothing if not tricky. He touched a small scrape on Harry's side, and then said, "Turn around." Harry turned, and Snape frowned at the deep bruise on his shoulder. He was quite nicely built for his age, though too thin. He turned to Petunia, and demanded, "How was he hurt?"

Petunia stuttered that she didn't know, and Snape said, "Potter?"

Harry shrugged and was silent.

Petunia said nervously, "Harry, do not anger the Professor."

Harry said quietly, "Dudley came up behind when I was working in the garden." He glanced at Snape, and said, defensively, "He has bruises as well."

Snape was amused at the transparent attempt to pretend he could hold his own in a physical fight. Nearly fifteen, but looked more like thirteen. Far smaller than his cousin. He doubted if he'd be able to put up much of a fight. He asked, "Do you do a lot of work here?"

Petunia said quickly, "He likes to work. It makes him feel better about accepting our charity when he does small jobs about the house."

Snape stroked down the boy's upper arm. Were those muscles from the chores he did? It was reported that he spent hours every day working outside. Or maybe the tournament last year? Once he'd accepted that he was to participate, he'd done a lot of physical training. Severus Snape tended to notice Harry Potter.

He cast three more spells, and concluded, "Reasonably healthy, but he must be fed better. He is malnourished. And you must ensure your son does not touch him."

Petunia said, in a small voice, "Yes, Sir. Teenage boys can be a handful."

"Of course." He looked assessingly at Potter, who was buttoning his shirt again, and added, "Do not let him wander, Mrs. Dursley. He is in danger. If it becomes known that he is here, you could also be in danger."

"Not even to the park? He likes to go to the park."

"Not at all."

"Yes, Mr. Snape."

Potter was looking at him resentfully, and Snape warned, "You would not want to endanger your relatives, Potter." There was no answer, and Snape thought it unsurprising. Potter might easily want revenge. The scan had revealed that he'd had nothing at all to eat that day. He wondered how close the boy was to revolt, and added, "Make sure he has something to amuse himself, Mrs. Dursley. Books, games, whatever."

Harry asked quickly, "Might I please have access to my wand and books, Aunt Petunia? So I can do my homework?"

Snape was surprised, "He doesn't have access to his books?"

Petunia looked embarrassed, and Snape said, sternly, "This is a very important year in his education. Provide him with what he needs. Sufficient food, do not overwork him, and toys to keep him amused since he's not allowed out."

Harry was looking hopefully at the woman, and Petunia muttered something about the expense. Snape ordered indifferently, "Provide an accounting, you will be reimbursed."

"Yes, Sir."

The following day, Dudley was presented with a brand new computer, several of the newest games, and Harry was allowed to have his old computer and the games that Dudley was tired of. He was thrilled. It might take some days to learn how to master it, but Harry Potter was not stupid. His marks in school may have been average, but that was more because he didn't want to do better than Ron, and was sure that Hermione would never forgive him if he did better than she did. He valued his friends very much.

He was stunned when Dudley lounged to the door of his room, and asked, "Do you want to know how to play a game? I'll show you if you like?"

Harry looked at him warily, but finally said, "Yes, please."

Dudley stayed an hour before one of his friends called for him. Harry watched him go in amusement. He should have hit back years ago, but who could have expected that it would have this effect?

That evening, when he cooked dinner for the family, he wore the secondhand clothing he'd stolen, now washed, and with a button sewn on. He knew how to sew. His aunt had taught him all sorts of things to make himself useful. He'd long since stopped looking for affection from her, but at least she mostly made sure that his uncle didn't hit him much, not like when he'd been little. He was worried when his aunt frowned at him, but decided that if he was punished for it, then he would leave, in spite of his computer, and enough to eat.

But nothing was said, and in the morning, his fifteenth birthday, there were several sets of new clothes, a new pair of sneakers, even a pair of pyjamas. They were cheap, but they were new, and only a little too big. He thought that if Petunia continued to allow him sufficient food, they might fit properly by the end of the Summer, - if he stayed that long. He had a passport in a different name, purchased in Knockturn Alley, and he had a card that appeared to be an ordinary Visa Card, but would automatically deduct money from his Gringotts vault. Both items were cached in a slot in his photograph album, hidden from view. Not even his best friends would credit that he sometimes wondered whether a peaceful life as an anonymous Muggle would be better than being the Boy-Who-Lived, and seeming to attract trouble, only because of his notoriety.

There was that ominous Prophecy, too, appearing in the newspaper just days after he'd barely escaped from Voldemort on the occasion of his resurrection to a body. What would happen to the damned Prophecy if he simply disappeared?

****

Snape knelt at the hem of Voldemort's robes, and said humbly, "A new Prophecy, Master, concerning yourself and the boy." "Genuine?" "Genuine. I was the only witness, excluding the Seer."

"Does Dumbledore know?"

"I think we might need to give him a modified version."

"Tell me, then."

Snape recited carefully, _"Victory for the Dark Lord, Victory before the leaves fall. Victory coming from the Rite of Cerlikh..... When the Bonds of Curse and Blood are cemented with the Act of Rutthiea.... The Dark Lord and the Marked Child of Light. The only blood spilled must be from the Act of Rutthiea, his only pain from the Act of Rutthiea, or the Rite will fail. The innocent child, shining white, in his sixteenth year, at the full of the moon. Treated with tenderness and care, yet he will give up his power to the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord will reign a thousand years. Victory for the Dark Lord before the leaves fall. Victory for the Dark Lord.... Shame for the Side of Light, sacrificing the innocent child. Shame and Retribution! The innocent child sacrificed......." _

Voldemort said doubtfully, "The Rite of Cerlikh?"

"I have done some research. I have all the information needed."

"And the Act of Rutthiea, of course, means a man having sex with a boy."

"That is correct, Master. An Old Aniragi term."

Voldemort looked down at the kneeling man, and said, impatiently, "Get up, Severus. You have done well."

Snape carefully rose to his feet, still looking at the floor. Voldemort liked humility in his followers, but now he said, sternly, "Look me in the face, Severus."

Snape had been expecting this, and allowed Voldemort to see his satisfaction that the Potter boy would be thoroughly humbled, the Bane of his life brought low.

Voldemort gave a crack of laughter, and said, "Unfortunately, the words state that he should be treated with tenderness and care."

"Perhaps, if he survives the transfer of power, you might let me have him? He's grown into quite a tempting boy."

Voldemort was amused, "He has? A bit puny, isn't he?"

"Small for his age, but not puny. He has eyes that show his every thought, but nearly always hidden behind those disgraceful glasses."

"Why haven't his eyes been fixed?"

"Dumbledore said that it serves his purposes, though he didn't say how. Recently he's come to the conclusion that the boy will never be capable of defeating you, and no longer values him. He could easily be willing to trade him, maybe for those you rescued from Azkaban, since they're already convicted."

"And who would you suggest?"

Snape said humbly, "It is not for me to suggest, Master."

Snape met the eyes of his master, and Voldemort said, in an amused voice, "Malfoy, eh? You really hate him, don't you?"

Snape dropped his eyes, and Voldemort said, "Repeat the words, and then give me all the information you have collected. I will give it some thought."

The weakness of the plan was that Voldemort was relying on only one witness, whom he might not necessarily trust. Dumbledore had given that some thought as well. Lucius Malfoy happened to overhear Kingsley Shacklebolt talking to another Auror, "It's ridiculous! Potter may have won the Triwizard Tournament, but he'll never rival any of us, let alone..." He'd broken off when he saw Malfoy, and smoothly started talking about the recent enquiry into Diggory's death.

There was another Prophecy as well, made at a dinner party, directly to Dumbledore, and in front of several witnesses. The Seer was Granny Abbot, who had a reputation for never being wrong. "Beware Leader of the Light. An Era of Darkness is at hand... Before the leaves fall.... Flee, Leader of the Light, the Dark Lord will have new power, and you will see defeat." The Ministry attempted to suppress it, but there were too many witnesses, and word reached Voldemort.

Snape reported to Dumbledore, "He still glows white, and states that he has not stepped foot outside the houseyard. Already he doesn't look as thin, he's better dressed, and says he likes to play games on his computer and has completed his homework. There were no injuries, not even a bruise."

"His pelvis?"

"As you said, I checked. There were no scars, no flaws."

"Did he object to taking off all his clothing?"

"He refused, so I paralysed him to do the check. I was lucky not to be attacked the moment I lifted the spell."

Dumbledore smiled, "He has a temper."

Snape said, "I showed my memory to the Dark Lord. It is not only for the Rite that he wants him now."

Dumbledore's tone was casual, "Would you have him if you had the chance, Severus?"

Snape replied coldly, "I have never been interested in boys, Albus."

Dumbledore shrugged. He'd enjoyed both boys and girls in his time, even the students in his care. The _Imperius_ and _Obliviate_ spells were so very convenient.

The Minister for Magic was Cornelius Fudge. Fudge was neither strong-minded, nor particularly intelligent, and Dumbledore influenced his decisions with even more ease than he had the previous Minister. The wily old man spoke of Voldemort's approach for a trade, and Fudge protested, "Yes, but Harry Potter!"

Dumbledore showed his tired, regretful face. "Sacrifices have to be made, Cornelius. Voldemort has offered two Death Eaters for the boy, I feel we should demand fifteen of his best, and that our condition would be that he has Dementors Kiss them in front of witnesses before handing them over."

"Fenrir Greyback. We _must_ have Fenrir Greyback. He killed my brother."

"Greyback has killed hundreds, and Turned more. And Bellatrix Lestrange. I'm sure I can negotiate those two. Voldemort wants the boy, and promises not to torture him, even to have it so that he never has reason to fear. Voldemort..."

Fudge said, exasperated, "_Please, _don't say his name, Albus! You know I hate it!"

Dumbledore soothed, "We will win one day, Cornelius, never fear."

Fudge said hopefully, "Depriving him of his most devoted followers will help."

"It certainly will."

Fudge sighed, "I assume he will kill poor Harry."

"I assume so, but he has no reason to cause him pain or upset. Just that he thinks he needs to remove a threat."

"Is the boy really incapable of defeating him?"

"Potter is not particularly powerful, a mediocre student, and he's mentally fragile. While I'm fond of the boy, I have to be objective. Harry Potter is not of use as a Fighter, but can do a great deal of good as a trade."

Dumbledore looked down at his own steepled hands, and said, "If I am the one to contrive the defeat of the Dark One, I would like a monetary reward, as well as a second Order of Merlin."

"Yes, Albus. I can't wait for the day."

"It will come, but we may have to be patient. Just trust me, and do as I say." His eyes settled on Fudge's, and his left hand was in his right sleeve, holding his wand. The Mind-Magic swirled, and Fudge forgot his remaining objections. There were always casualties in war, and hard decisions sometimes had to be made. It was sad that the sacrifice had to be the Boy Who Lived, but the Dark One had undertaken not to cause him pain. Dumbledore stated a figure, and Fudge agreed without a murmur of objection.

At the full moon, before the leaves fell. Voldemort beat Dumbledore down to seven Death Eaters, including Fenrir Greyback and Bellatrix Lestrange, but not including Lucius Malfoy. Dumbledore had wanted Malfoy, Voldemort's chief lieutenant, and so wily he'd never been convicted of numerous crimes.

The arrangements were not made in time for the August full moon. The next was due on September fifteenth.

****

Harry glared at Severus Snape when he arrived. After that intrusive inspection of his body, it had been hard to be sensible, but if he wanted legal use of a wand as an adult, he'd had to be. The minimum to be regarded as a competent wizard was successful completion of fifth year. If that was not obtained, whether at Hogwarts, or verified by a competent teacher, the wizard had to give up his wand. It was only prudent to obey the headmaster, which is why Harry hadn't gone out, even to Muggle areas. But he needed his school supplies, and Snape was here to escort him, along with two Aurors, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Jeremy Huntington, both very black, and large in stature. They wore their Auror's uniforms and looked rather fearsome, but they were friendly. Kingsley stayed close, sometimes taking his arm, only for safety, he said, as Harry flinched away from him, and Jeremy two paces away, and very alert. Snape stayed at a distance as well, though it was obvious he was in charge of the expedition.

The Alley was a lot quieter than Harry had ever seen it. He commented, and Kingsley explained that Dumbledore had arranged that he have his booklist early so there'd be fewer shoppers. Jeremy added, "There's a lot of fear, as well. People don't know what's going to happen."

Harry shivered, remembering the half manic snake-man he'd attempted to duel.

All the same, the shopping trip was a rare treat for him, and once he'd gone to the bank, been measured for new robes, had picked up his books and potions supplies, he asked Kingsley if they could maybe have an ice-cream before leaving. Kingsley looked at Snape, who gave a curt nod and said he might as well collect a few supplies of his own and disappeared around the corner toward Knockturn Alley.

Harry felt a rare happiness, as he watched the shoppers, and listened to the lilting music that always seemed to fill the alley with excitement. A reporter approached, but Jeremy stepped in front of her, and she quickly retreated. Harry remarked to Kingsley, "That was Rita Skeeter. She's a total bitch."

He was looking around for others he knew, and saw Blaise Zabini with his family. Then Charlie Greaves and Bruce Steinway, Gryffindors a year above himself. They didn't seem to have anyone with them, and when they asked, were allowed to join him. With his formidable guardians watching over him, Harry wasn't worrying about his own safety, and listened as Charlie enthusiastically described his new broom, and said that with the vacancies in the Quidditch team, he hoped to finally have his chance.

Harry grinned, "I can't wait to fly again. It always hurts when I have to leave my broom at school."

"You don't fly in the Summer?"

"I live with Muggles, in a Muggle neighbourhood."

Charlie asked blankly, "Why?"

Harry shrugged, "Only living relatives. No choice."

"Surely it would be a problem, - things you don't know."

Harry laughed, "That first year..... Even now, I find myself not knowing things that everyone else knows. Like Ron went to a wedding, except he called it a Bonding Ceremony, and then laughed at me because I asked if that meant there was magic involved."

"You didn't know that?"

"Aniragi customs. If you don't grow up in the culture, you often find yourself confused."

"The Potters are an old Pure-blood family, aren't they? You should know."

"I know very little about the Potters. I know my mother was Muggle-born."

A couple of Slytherin boys waved to the group, but Snape had returned by then, and shook his head. Kingsley stood, "Time to go, I'm afraid, Harry."

Charlie said, "I'll ask my parents about the Potter bloodline and tell you once we're back at school. We might even be related."

"Ron told me once that just about every Pure-blood family is related to every other."

Two days before school was due to resume, Snape was back at the Dursleys. Harry regarded him with wariness, and Snape said, in a calm voice, "Just another medical check, Dumbledore's orders."

Harry demanded, "And do you want to strip me this time? Do you get some sort of a sick pleasure out of that?"

"That is not necessary, and there was no pleasure in that for me. Just that the Headmaster was adamant that a complete check be done."

Harry said, bitterly, "You _paralysed _me!"

"I could have stunned you instead."

Snape made an effort, and said, "I am sorry that you were embarrassed. I do not expect that any such necessity will arise again."

Harry looked surprised, and Snape said, "Just the usual diagnostics in case your uncle has not been behaving."

Harry still regarded him with suspicion, and Snape noticed his wand was in his hand. He said sharply, "Be sensible, Harry. I apologised for embarrassing you."

"Not so much embarrassed, just that I hate to be helpless."

"Do you accept my apology?"

Harry shrugged, "I don't think I've ever had a sincere apology from an adult, and I doubt you care in the slightest as long as I don't fight back."

"Stay fully clothed, and I'll cast the General Diagnostic first, and then the other."

"What's the other for?"

"It checks for spells on you that you may not know about, such as tracking charms. Clear white means no problems."

"You cast it silently last time."

"It is a proscribed spell. There is no need for you to know the incantation."

Again, Snape noted that the poor boy appeared perfectly healthy, and his skin still glowed pure white. For a traitorous moment, he wished he could send him out to get some experience. Negotiations would cease if the Sylph Aura changed colour, even to slightly pink. As it was, it was likely he only had a few weeks to live. The Prophecy didn't state whether he would survive or not, just that he'd be _lost and broken. _Snape found that he didn't actually want the boy broken, even if his insolence did try his patience at times.

Harry's look was still wary, and he asked, "Finished?"

"Almost. I brought you some books to read."

Harry smiled broadly, and said, "Good old Dumbledore. It's been my least horrible Summer ever."

Snape thought wryly that it would naturally not occur to him that it had been Snape who'd organised the gift.

****

The seventh September, and Dumbledore and Voldemort were talking directly. They were in an unoccupied home they'd decided on as neutral territory. Dumbledore said, "So seven Death Eaters, Kissed, and then handed over to the Aurors."

Voldemort listed, "The three Lestranges, Greyback, McNair, Alecto Carrow and Dolohov."

"That is satisfactory. Now as to Harry. I want him hurt as little as possible. I thought I'd give him no real warning, but present him to you under the influence of Calming and Compliance potions."

"There is a special potion I want him to have that will have those effects."

"I thought so. You want him for the Rite of Cerlikh, don't you?"

Voldemort regarded the old headmaster, looking benign instead of business-like. He asked, "Do you know of the _Rite of Cerlikh_?"

"I know magic. I suspected it. You know that careful preparation is required?"

"I know. I'll have to have him early."

"He would be terrified. A struggling subject is detrimental to the spell. What I suggest is that I ensure careful preparation at Hogwarts, so that he will not be upset, and only hand him over when the time for the ceremony is imminent."

"Why are you willing to help me in this, Albus?"

"I do not believe the spell will be effective, except that I have no doubt that you will enjoy it very much. He's a beautiful boy, you know. But I want something extra for my trouble. Not just the preparation, but to ensure he doesn't ruin it by going to bed with one of the girls after him."

"What do you want, Albus? To watch?"

Dumbledore would have loved to watch, but not if Potter managed to incinerate everyone around, as he just might. Instead, he said firmly, "Peter Pettigrew, in addition to the others, but not Kissed. He is of use to me."

Voldemort frowned, "He is of use to me, as well."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, and Voldemort shrugged, "Very well, the rat."

Dumbledore smiled. Clearing Sirius Black would have another person in debt to him, and a very wealthy one. Black didn't appear to blame him for his incarceration for all those years, but surely he realised he could have done something to help if he'd chosen. There hadn't even been a trial.

Voldemort said, firmly, "I will need one of my followers to supervise the preparation. The man must not be molested in any way, and there should be no repercussions for him afterward. Also he will take charge of the Cerlikh potion."

Dumbledore nodded and smiled, "It will be an erotic experience for me as well, you know, Tom. When young Harry glows white, and you know he's never been touched..... I'll prepare him very carefully, - a day of purging and cleansing, two days of fasting, nothing to drink but pure water, not even potions, but repeated cleansing and calming spells, and then the Cerlikh potion just before handing him over."

"That is even more thorough than the instructions I have."

Dumbledore spoke gently, "I'm always thorough, Tom. You will have what you want, and for this, for the seven Kissed criminals, and for Pettigrew, I will help you."

"Then are we all settled?"

"Only one thing, Tom. He feels pain when you are close. I think you should work on projecting reassurance and calm through the connection you share with him, rather than pain."

"Pain?"

"I see him rubbing his forehead, and I know he's feeling you."

"I touched him on the scar once, and he screamed, just from the touch."

"You should work on that. It is in no-one's interest to have a violent rape."

"True."

"I'm very fond of him, you know, Tom. He's a charming boy, polite and obedient. It is very sad that he's to be a sacrifice of this struggle."

Voldemort stood, and said in a tone of finality, "You can rest assured that I will treat him as a thing of value."

The following day, Dumbledore sent Hagrid on a mission to parlay with the giants, and Remus Lupin, who also appeared to care about Harry, to talk to the werewolves, maybe offer the Wolfsbane potion in return for registration with the Ministry. There were no other adults whom he expected might speak up for the boy, not even Minerva McGonnagal, his Head of House. The Dursleys, of course, were not worth considering. Meantime, Harry just had to be kept safe, unsuspecting, and 'innocent.'

****

The tenth September, and Harry hurtled after the practice snitch on his broom. Usually he'd be dodging bludgers as well, or at least the lighter practice bludgers, but Madam Hooch said they were not available for use. There had been speculation that someone might have hexed them, but no information had been forthcoming.

The players came in exhilarated, laughing. Practice had gone well. Harry remarked contentedly to Ron, "I'm never as happy as when I'm at Hogwarts, and preferably flying."

Ron asked curiously, "You're not worried about the Prophecy then?"

"The Prophecy made by Trelawney? Hardly! How many times has she predicted my imminent and painful death, and yet I'm still here. I really don't know why anyone takes her seriously. She's quite batty!"

"She is, but Prophecy is not. It's a respected branch of magic."

Harry laughed, "Ron, are you _trying_ to frighten me?"

Ron said quickly, "Forget it. If it's going to happen, it's going to happen."

Kingsley Shacklebolt spent the night in the Gryffindor Common Room, as he had every night since school had resumed. By this time, he was mostly ignored, usually just quietly reading a book until everyone was in bed, then sealing the door. No fifteen year-old boy wearing an invisibility cloak was to be allowed out to get into mischief. His presence also reduced the likelihood of couples getting together in the Common Room.

In the daytimes, it was Jeremy Huntington, simply being wherever Harry was, not too close. Harry mostly ignored him, as well, except for the times when he used his knowledge of shortcuts and hidden corridors to dodge him, winding up smugly sitting in a classroom by the time that Jeremy arrived, puffing and harried.

When Dumbledore remonstrated with him, he denied that he was in any particular danger. He thought having bodyguards was quite ridiculous. And besides, he was irked with Dumbledore. Charlie had told him that there was bound to be an ancestral manor, though apparently hidden by spells since no-one could remember it, quite separate from the house that had been destroyed at Godric's Hollow. Possibly other properties, and wealth far greater than was in the one Gringotts Vault he knew of. He couldn't understand why Dumbledore hadn't seen fit to mention it, but asked Charlie to keep quiet about it. Hedwig had been sent to Gringotts for further information. There had to be property deeds, maybe mementos of his ancestors. Was there another vault? He'd asked for strict confidentiality.

Sunday, September twelfth. It was the following day that Harry was to be 'taken ill,' in order for the rigorous cleansing process to commence. It was time for Kingsley and Jeremy to know what was planned. Dumbledore couldn't afford the 'bodyguards' to object to the proceedings.

Kingsley first, and he asked, "Harry been behaving himself?"

Kingsley smiled, "As you would expect of a teenager. He is full of life and spirit."

Dumbledore laughed gently, fondly, "It is good that he is enjoying life." He sighed, and projected an air of sadness and resolution, "There will be a few days when he is not so happy, but it is war, and in a war, difficult decisions have to be made."

"Yes, Professor."

Albus Dumbledore had been the revered headmaster of Hogwarts for the past fifty years. Kingsley had met him first as a nervous eleven-year-old, as had nearly every English wizard below the age of sixty. Even without Mind-Magic, that gave the old man a tremendous advantage. What he said would be believed. "I will need your full cooperation to make this as easy on the boy as possible."

Kingsley was a little puzzled, but assured him that the Aurors had instructions to cooperate fully with him.

Dumbledore looked sad still, "I will explain, Kingsley. Listen carefully to the latest Prophecy concerning our Harry. He quoted softly, clearly: _Victory for the Side of Light... Victory before the leaves fall........ Victory this year..... A sacrifice..... This Victory depends on the sacrifice of the Marked One. Subject to the Rite of Cerlikh........ When innocence is defiled, when understanding comes, his anger will be unleashed, his power released...... His anger is the key... The Marked Child of Light must know the Dark in order to vanquish the Lord of the Dark. The innocent child, shining white, in his sixteenth year, at the full of the moon. Victory for the Side of Light before the leaves fall. The Child of Light will emerge triumphant. Glory to the Child of Light."_

Kingsley asked, "A Prophecy? Would you mind repeating it?"

Dumbledore repeated the edited Prophecy. Nothing about Shame to the Side of Light, nothing about the innocent child being 'lost and broken.'

Kingsley said, "I don't know the Rite of Cerlikh."

Dumbledore explained, and also that Voldemort had been lured to ask for the boy. The trade, and Kingsley exclaimed with satisfaction, "Greyback! He's ruined so many lives!"

"And the Lestranges. I believe that Voldemort learned sadism from Bellatrix. Before she became his disciple, he sometimes caused pain, but only when there was reason."

"Dolohov, the other Lestranges.... If only we could have deprived him of Malfoy!"

Dumbledore sighed, "The cost is high, but it's seven for one, and most important, it will mean our victory."

"But Harry! He's a nice boy. I don't want him hurt."

"Voldemort has heard a different prophecy, one that promises him victory, but only if Harry is treated with care and tenderness. Harry will inevitably be hurt, - somewhat, but as little as possible."

"Why has Voldemort agreed to this?"

"The Prophecy he believes goes like this: _ Victory for the Dark Lord, Victory before the leaves fall. Victory coming from the Rite of Cerlikh..... When the Bonds of Blood and Curse are cemented with the Act of Rutthiea.... The Dark Lord and the Marked Child of Light. The only blood spilled must be from the Act of Rutthiea, his only pain from the Act of Rutthiea, or the Rite will fail. The innocent child, shining white, in his sixteenth year, at the full of the moon. Treated with tenderness and care, yet he will give up his power to the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord will reign a thousand years. Victory for the Dark Lord before the leaves fall. Victory for the Dark Lord.... Shame for the Side of Light, sacrificing the innocent child. Shame! The innocent child sacrificed.... Victory for the Dark Lord..." _

Kingsley said, thoughtfully, "I see."

Dumbledore nodded, "Harry will win, though he might be very frightened, especially if the Rite proceeds to its conclusion. But we can see the end to this now, just a few months after Voldemort was resurrected. It's even appropriate, seeing that it was Harry's blood that was used to return Voldemort to a body, and now he'll be the instrument of his destruction," and he quoted again, "_The Child of Light emerges triumphant. Glory to the Child of Light." _

"Poor Harry!"

"I know, but we must be strong, and do what is right, rather than what is easy. Giving him to Voldemort is the right thing to do, and will spell the end of this conflict."

Kingsley sighed, "I understand that. I will follow your instructions precisely."

"Thank you, Kingsley."

Then Jeremy, who also promised to do whatever was necessary, to make it as easy as possible for Harry, while agreeing that he would be handed over to Voldemort.

One last interview for the day, Francis Ryan, tall, blonde and goodlooking. One of three brothers from an old Pure-blood family. Ryan was a Death Eater, but would be passed off as a Healer, with the special job of looking after Harry Potter in his illness. A private room was already prepared, and a temporary nurse hired to replace Madam Pomfrey, who'd been sent on leave without the option. Dumbledore didn't trust the strong minded Hogwarts nurse not to attempt to defend her patient, even from him.

***chapter end***


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world is owned by J. K. Rowling. _

_**_

_**Chapter 2:**_

Monday, thirteenth September dawned. The full moon would be on Wednesday, 15th. The Rite was to be performed at midnight. Harry was slow to wake, and when Ron gave him a shake and told him to get up, he only groaned, and turned over. A few minutes later, he was staggering to the toilets. The purging and the cleansing had begun. Harry would never remember much of that day, just a blurred dream of terrible cramps in his stomach, shameful mess, and utter fatigue.

Ron and Hermione were filled with pride when Dumbledore enlisted their aid in the middle of the afternoon. The goodlooking Healer explained that the poison was affecting his mind as well as his body, and he was resisting the essential potions, as if he felt surrounded by enemies. And Dumbledore said, quietly, "His condition is critical. He might be willing to take potions from Madam Pomfrey, but we can't contact her. But you're his friends, and I doubt if he'll fight you."

Ron said proudly, "We can do it, Professor."

Dumbledore warned, "You might have to be strong. He doesn't really know what's happening."

"We can be strong, Sir."

Ryan said, "Well then, what you have to do is for Mr. Weasley to raise him a little, - he's too weak to sit up otherwise, and Miss Granger should make him take the potion. Close his nose with your fingers if you have to."

Hermione looked at him doubtfully. She wasn't sure she could be that strong, even for her friend. It was very hard to force Harry to do anything. She said, "Maybe if we just talk to him a little first, so that he knows it's us."

"Good idea."

Dumbledore watched benignly as Ron and Hermione took it in turns to tell Harry that they were there, and he was going to be fine. It took a few minutes before Harry's eyes slitted open, and he whimpered, "Hurts, 'Mione."

Hermione said gently, "I know, Harry. We have something to help. You trust us, don't you?"

"That Healer. I don't know him... Don't like him."

"You know us. You like us. Just relax, and Ron will help you to sit up a little."

Harry moaned again as Ron supported him more upright in the bed, but obediently took the potion that Hermione delivered in small spoonfuls. This one was just a sedating and painkilling potion. Dumbledore didn't want Harry to start distrusting his friends by having them deliver the harsh, cleansing potions. By the time the three days were over, Harry should have no trace of foreign elements left in his body.

His friends watched in satisfaction when Harry looked more peaceful, and his eyes closed. They stayed for twenty minutes before Dumbledore sent them away. Hermione asked if they should come back after classes, and Dumbledore said gravely, that it would be appreciated.

Hermione asked, "Is he getting better?"

Dumbledore asked, "Francis?"

Ryan said, "Very ill, and it's likely his mind has been affected. Hard to know if he'll recover at this stage."

"Poison!"

"A delayed effect. The Aurors have not been able to find the culprit, or even to ascertain when it was administered, though we have a good idea what it was, thanks to Severus."

Dumbledore was continually surprised that the Compliance elements of the potions were not having a greater effect. Harry struggled again when Snape and Ryan forced the next dose of potion down his throat. Shortly afterward, his body began convulsing in yet another session of purging. Snape wrinkled his nose as he made the cleaning spells, and when the episode appeared to be over, he physically changed the sheets. Magical cleaning was totally effective, but no wizard ever entirely believed it. They used soap and water as much as any fastidious Muggle.

This time, when Hermione and Ron told Harry to take the sedating and pain-killing potion, he tried to fend them off. They were strong, as the headmaster said they had to be. And again, they watched in satisfaction as Harry's frown of pain smoothed out, and he slept.

An hour later, Dumbledore caressed his forehead, and made the spell to see him glow white, purely for his own pleasure. There were virility potions that would allow an old man to enjoy sex again if he chose, and he loved that glow. One of the younger students... Not many fifth years would show totally white. He finally sighed, "Once more, just to be sure."

Snape demurred, "Surely he's gone through enough...."

Dumbledore put a mild rebuke in his voice, "It has to be done right."

Snape glanced at Ryan, and forbore to ask just exactly _why _Dumbledore was so keen on doing it right.

As arranged, Ron and Hermione returned late that night. Harry seemed so weak, though he finally opened his eyes and slurred something in response to their greetings. Dumbledore was there again, and said, "It is imperative he take it. Tonight will tell. Tonight he dies, or has a chance of living."

When Harry realised they were trying to make him take more potion, he turned his face away, and said, strongly, "No!"

They persisted, and he started swearing and struggling, even striking Ron, though the blow was feeble, and caused no hurt. He didn't attack Hermione, but he came close. Ron had tears on his face, but grabbed his fists, held him still, and Hermione closed his nose, until she had the chance to pour the dose of potion down his throat. He spluttered and coughed, but it was down. Ron lay him gently down. Harry turned his head away. Hermione started to wipe his face of tears, speaking softly, gently. He pushed her hand away.

Dumbledore watched the interaction thoughtfully. He would not have thought that the boy could be quite so stubborn. It was not undiluted Compliance potion, which was routinely used to control manic patients, but it should have been more than sufficient to have him docile. At least the sedating potions appeared to be somewhat effective. He left Harry with his friends sitting quietly beside him, Hermione holding his hand again once he seemed to sleep.

Hermione said, in a hushed voice, "I think the Healer is right. He's not in his right mind, - he thinks we're enemies."

Ron said, still a little shocked, "He hit me!"

"I hated forcing him. It _was_ the right thing, wasn't it?"

"Of course it was. Professor Dumbledore said so."

Hermione squeezed Harry's hand, but there was no response. After a time, she kissed him gently on the forehead, and Ron said, "See you tomorrow, Mate. You'll be right tomorrow."

Late morning, September 14th. Harry stared at the ceiling, and murmured to himself, "I'm floating." Snape heard the tiny sound, and saw the feeble movement. As instructed, he collected Ron and Hermione from their lesson, Transfiguration at that time. He explained, "He needs water now. He's very dehydrated, and he tried to fight again when I offered it, and he still won't tolerate Healer Ryan."

"The headmaster?"

"He tried to hit the headmaster, and he must not fight now. He's too weak."

Harry tried to fight again, when he felt the edge of the glass pressed to his lips, but Hermione tipped it a little, and said calmly, "It's only water, Harry. You're thirsty, aren't you?"

Harry touched his tongue to the drops on his lips, and suddenly tried to lift himself up, to pull the glass to him. Water. He needed water. Hermione said, "It's all right, Harry. You can have the water. Just take it easy, all right?"

Her voice was just a buzzing in his ears, but she was giving him what he wanted. He couldn't seem to take much, and his head lolled back on Ron's chest.

Ron gave a questioning look toward Healer Ryan, who said calmly, "It seems he'll recover, though I expect his paranoia might last a few more days."

Ron asked, "Paranoia?"

Hermione said, "Thinking that other people are his enemies. That's right, isn't it, Healer."

"That is correct."

"If we come back, whenever we can?"

"I'd appreciate that. By this evening, maybe he'll take water from others, but right now, it appears you're the only ones he's willing to trust."

Snape said snidely, "Potter always was a stubborn ox."

Hermione took Harry's hand and squeezed it. "He's had to be. He wouldn't have survived if he'd been the type to give up."

Snape grunted, and asked, "Where are you supposed to be now?"

Hermione looked at him questioningly, "Potions?"

"I thought you would have heard. Professor Landen is taking it until I'm no longer needed here."

"I did hear that, yes."

It was obvious that Granger was wondering why it was Snape doing the majority of the nursing, but she didn't ask, and quietly went on to class.

The door was locked, and Snape notified Dumbledore that the first of the special baths was to begin. Thankfully, Harry didn't resist, though he was questioning everything, in a slurred, thick voice. He wanted Madam Pomfrey, and pushed at Ryan when he came close. Ryan simply took a step back, and let Snape handle it.

The bath was a small pool, with steps leading into it. Snape held Harry very firmly, as he stood upright on shaky legs, Snape behind him, still wearing clothing. He would simply dry himself with magic afterwards. Harry did exactly as he was told, the best he could. He was held securely, and he felt so dirty after the previous day. He needed a wash. The water was warm and scented, and the voice in his head told him that it was good, that he should just relax. Dumbledore was close, he could tell, but it was Snape who washed over him thoroughly, and then instructed him to close his eyes and hold his breath, as he was to be under water for a moment, and then his hair washed. One last rinse. He stood, holding firmly onto a railing, as Snape swiftly and impersonally washed over body, including genitals, one more time. It didn't occur to Harry to object. He needed a lot of washing after that horrible dirt that he'd been surrounded with.

Dumbledore cast the _Sylph Virgo _spell again after, and nodded when the boy still glowed white, before ending the spell. It would last around two hours before fading away if it was not ended. That boy he'd had the previous night... He'd loved it when the white glow had changed to red, streaked black, the moment he penetrated. The virility potion really did work well, though the chest pain afterward warned him that perhaps the experience should not be repeated. He found his compensation in preparing Harry Potter for the Rite of Cerlikh.

Harry was curled on his side, sleeping again. The previous day had been arduous, and he was exhausted. Dumbledore asked quietly, "Severus, were there any signs of excitement from him when you washed his genitals?"

"I hardly expected any."

"Mmm... Just that he could, with the warm water, and soft, caressing hands."

Snape's voice was cold, "My hands are not soft and caressing!"

Dumbledore chuckled, "No, Severus. Four times today, five times tomorrow, and his friends should not know. And next time, if you hold him, I'll wash him. I'll do the Ritno Spell, just in case."

Snape asked dryly, "On yourself or on Harry?"

Dumbledore chided, "Now, Severus, it's not me that must glow pure white."

Harry stirred, and looked around. He could sense there were people not far away. He complained, weakly, "Thirsty."

Snape looked questioningly toward Dumbledore who shook his head. "Only when his friends give it to him."

Snape nodded, and said quietly, "Just sleep now, Potter. You're being looked after."

Harry spoke a little more clearly, "Where's Madam Pomfrey?"

"She'll be back in a day or two, I expect."

"Mmm..." He closed his eyes again. It must be Summer, and he was back at the Dursleys. When he was locked in, he sometimes didn't get enough to drink. There was the voice again, tender, gentle, telling him to sleep. He didn't like that internal voice, and Voldemort was surprised and a little amused when he was firmly told to _Fuck Off._

Dumbledore missed the second bath, but was there for the third. Snape said quietly, "We've tried the Twilight Spell, and it appears to be working better than the others we've tried."

"I don't think I've heard of that one."

"Used by Healers, when a patient is not cooperating, usually because of pain. He can't see well, he's confused, and not in any frame of mind to fight."

"Sounds ideal."

When they started to get Harry up again, he asked if he could have some water. Snape said firmly, "No. You're having another bath, to get you very clean. We don't want any trace of the poison to linger on your skin."

"After?"

"When your friends come."

Harry said vaguely, "Yes..." and didn't object as the cream coloured pyjamas were stripped from him.

He appeared to Snape to be enjoying the warm water. He moved his hands around, gently batting at the soap suds. He interfered when Harry started to bring some water to his mouth, telling him it would make his stomach hurt again. Five minutes later, Harry did it again, and Snape changed his position, holding his arms to his side, and telling him not to move. Harry was docile, even murmuring an apology.

Dumbledore looked very odd wading into the bath in trousers and shirt. He seldom wore anything but expensive satin robes, complete with elaborate embroidery. Harry didn't even seem to notice him at first, and this time when he was washed, the hands were soft and caressing, slowly exploring.

Snape held Harry firmly, not allowing him use of his hands. He could feel that Harry was no longer relaxed, but didn't expect the sudden move when Dumbledore was neatly tripped, and fell over backwards, submerged in the water. After a moment of struggling, Dumbledore emerged, looking furious. Harry giggled. Snape raised his eyebrows at Ryan, who was almost falling over with his own laughter. Dumbledore, supposedly the greatest Light Wizard of their world, bedraggled, red-faced and with his mane of hair plastered to his head. Snape tried to contain his own laughter, but succumbed.

Dumbledore drew himself up furiously, said icily, "Glad to provide you with amusement," and stalked away.

Harry asked for a drink of water.

Snape said, automatically, "Later."

Ryan asked, "Are you going to finish off washing him?"

"I guess. If he tries to drown me, you might lend some aid."

Harry didn't try and drown Snape, accepting the thorough and repeated washing without doing anything more than try to free his hands now and then.

Dumbledore made no further attempt to fondle, though he was a frequent visitor, smiling benignly when Ron and Hermione gave drinks of water to the weakened boy. Harry had apparently forgotten the incident, and gave no further trouble for the rest of the day. No-one was hurting him any more, and the day of pain faded into a confused memory. He stopped fighting the spell that took away his critical judgement.

Harry didn't understand what was happening the following afternoon when Sirius Black was allowed in, and thanked Harry profusely because he was shortly going to be free. His godfather, and Harry was fond of him. He murmured "Dog!" and Sirius obligingly transformed into his animagus form for him, and licked his hand, making him giggle again. It made him seem such a child. Not that he was very old. Just fifteen. Sirius often seemed even younger, with his mercurial temperament.

Later, Arthur Weasley, who shook his hand, and said what a brave boy he was, and Molly Weasley, who hugged and kissed him. She had tears in her eyes, and said, "You will be safe, of course. Albus assures us there are no worries about that." Dumbledore, who smiled at him benignly, and thanked him for agreeing to.... something. Snape still held him firmly when he was bathed, but let his hands free now he was no longer as thirsty. Harry played with the bubbles, ignoring Snape's efficient washing.

Cornelius Fudge, who made a pompous little speech, praising his courage. Harry went to sleep.

Vance McKenzie, head of the Auror Department, who tried to ascertain if the boy understood what was being asked of him. Dumbledore smoothly intervened, "Harry's been ill, and is not yet fully rational. But he was fully informed before that, and eager to help."

"So he knows he's to lure Voldemort into an ambush."

"Of course he knows. He won't need to be alert, and his illness need not interfere."

"Poisoned! I'm surprised you allowed it to happen, Headmaster."

Dumbledore looked very sad, and shook his head. "I do my best, but there are visitors, and there are students in contact with their parents. It is not possible to guard against everything." His hands were in his loose, flowing sleeves, and his voice was rich, convincing. "No-one could have done better."

"And this plan? Yours, I believe."

"It will work. It is a good plan."

McKenzie found himself convinced. The headmaster of Hogwarts would never do anything unethical. He was sure of that. The boy was simply a decoy. He would not be touched, probably never even leave the protective custody of Kingsley and Jeremy, two of his best Aurors. He made his plans under Dumbledore's guidance. Forces of Aurors should be as close to Voldemort's known hideouts as possible, ready for when Dumbledore's spells brought down the wards. Harry only had to be there, wearing the decorative pendant that was more than a decoration. Then, unless he was released earlier, Dumbledore's spy was to extricate him. He wondered again just who was Dumbledore's spy. He'd never asked. Better that as few people as possible know.

Late evening, and Harry protested when he was woken to have yet another bath. Snape said, "You can have a cold drink of water first."

"I'm hungry."

"Nothing to eat until tomorrow. You will feel a lot better tomorrow."

Harry was looking more alert than he had all day, and agreed that he was getting better. "Did you say it was poison?"

"That's right. We go next door for the bath now."

"You said a drink?" Snape handed him a drink, and Harry quickly downed it. His hands shook a little, but Snape noted that he seemed stronger. He sighed. It wasn't fair, and he remembered, _Shame for the Side of Light..... Shame! The innocent child lost and broken.... The Child of Light lost and broken...._ He was more gentle than usual, but reverted to his more businesslike approach when Harry looked at him surprised, and almost apprehensive. There was no need for the poor boy to be afraid, not until it could not be helped.

Afterwards, he instructed Harry to stand still, while he rubbed a lotion into his skin. "What's that for?"

"The same as the washing, to guard against any after-effects of the poison."

"Smells nice."

"Yes." His hair now, and Snape tried to brush the mop of hair into some semblance of order. Harry was frowning, and Snape crossed his fingers he would not become suspicious. Dumbledore was the one who should handle him when he started to question. Harry asked, suddenly, "Professor Snape, am I supposed to be doing something?"

It was only two hours since the last Twilight Spell was imposed. It should be fully effective. "Professor Snape?"

"The headmaster will explain. For now, just relax. You can trust Albus with your life, you know."

Harry was quiet for a good ten minutes, and Snape almost forgot what his last sentence was, working to disentangle a stubborn knot in the thick, glossy hair.

Harry said quietly, "No. I don't think I can."

"Can what?"

But the boy didn't answer, and said nothing further, to Snape's relief.

Dumbledore entered, and Snape said, calmly, "Just stay as you are for a moment, Harry."

"Yes..." but the word was doubtful, and he was looking at the door. Dumbledore made a quick decision, and cast another Spell of Calm. Overlaying a second Twilight Spell might make him comatose, but extra Calm would not go astray.

Harry jumped, as if he felt it, and whirled, cocking his head on the side, and squinting, trying to see. Dumbledore made his voice as reassuring as he could, and there was an internal voice as well, not saying anything, but radiating calm. Harry shook his head, and his eyes began to close. Snape took a few swift steps, and grabbed him, holding him firm before he fell.

Dumbledore nodded, "The clothing. Dressed all in white. Who could resist him?"

Harry shook his head, and tried to stand, fighting the spells. After a moment, he said, thickly, "I need my glasses. I can't see."

"That was explained to you, Harry. Just the illness, and your glasses won't help. You'll be able to see better tomorrow, probably as well as usual the day after."

At the neutral meeting place, there was already a gathering, - those people whom Harry knew and trusted. Ron and Hermione, Arthur and Molly Weasley, Sirius Black, who was finding it hard to sit down in his excitement. He was expecting to be free, the moment that Pettigrew was released into custody of the Ministry. Harry would be fine. Dumbledore had explained. A decoy, an exchange of prisoners, and then there would be a quick rescue. Harry loved him, and was happy to play his part in Dumbledore's scheme.

Also present were Francis Ryan, and his brother, Robert Ryan, both followers of Voldemort. Robert Ryan was to act as go-between, and the pair of them would escort Harry to his place for the ceremony. Their Master would triumph, taking extra power from the Boy Who Lived. The Ryan brothers glanced at each other. Victory was at hand. Their faces were expressionless. If something went wrong, Voldemort was sure to punish.

Cornelius Fudge strutted about importantly. He knew everything, - only he and Dumbledore knew the whole plan, as far as he knew. Victory was at hand.

The gathering quieted, turning to look at Harry as he appeared, held firmly by Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Sacrifice, or the bait, depending on what they'd been told. Harry was wearing soft, form fitting clothing, white, long-sleeved shirt and pants, overlaid with a white cape with a deep collar. Only his shoes were not white, and they were nearly white. Around his neck was a silver pendant, with a large emerald green stone, matching his eyes. His hair was artfully tousled, glossy black. His eyes seemed so much larger and more brilliant than usual, without his glasses. But he was looking around, confused.

Sirius went to him, and Dumbledore said quickly, "No-one's to touch at this stage. He is all ready."

Harry shook his head again, and asked, "Ready for what, Sir? I do not agree. I don't want to do anything!"

Dumbledore strode to him, and said, firmly, reassuringly, "Only what you've agreed to, Harry. You know I would not put you in danger."

"I do not agree. I want my glasses. My wand. I need my wand!"

Dumbledore glanced at Sirius, who took his cue, and said, in a sad tone, "Don't disappoint me, Harry. You promised! I want to be free."

Harry put his head to the side a little, "Free?"

"Just do as you're told, and I'll be free. We'll have Pettigrew, you see."

"But I'm not well and I can't see."

Ryan nudged Dumbledore and tapped his watch. Dumbledore was worried. The boy should not be capable of arguing like this, and now he had to take off the spells and get him to take the Cerlikh potion. He sighed, obviously, and said, "We cannot risk the operation now, Harry. I must say I'm disappointed in you. I thought you were happy to do your duty."

Harry said desperately, "I can't _see!_ I don't know where I am!"

Dumbledore pushed the Mind-Magic, wishing he could say the incantation aloud, to make it stronger. Harry stared at him, and then looked down, shaking his head again. This time he only muttered unhappily, "I can't see."

Hermione went to him at Dumbledore's nod, and said warmly, "You don't _need _to see well, Harry. You can trust us, trust Professor Dumbledore."

"What do I have to do?"

"Just do as the headmaster says, that's all. We'll strike a great victory for the Light tonight, Harry."

"But I can't fight."

"You don't need to fight this time."

Harry stared at her, and then suddenly swung to Dumbledore, "You're giving me to him, aren't you? I will not go!"

"Nonsense! You're to be a decoy, and then the Aurors move in."

Harry tried to wrench his arm away from Kingsley's grip, and cried, "No! Hermione, Ron! Don't let him do this!"

The pair looked doubtfully at the headmaster, who said, "There is no danger. I want you to administer a Calming potion for him now." He added, with a contemptuous glance back at Harry, "We will not allow them to see the Hero of The Light acting the coward!"

Ron cried, "Harry is not a coward!"

Dumbledore apologised, and ran a hand through his hair as if harassed, "Of course he is not a coward. He was eager to do this before his illness. This is not characteristic. Kingsley, hold him firm, if you please. I will remove the ineffective spells, and then Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger will give him the potion he needs. We do not want him disgracing himself."

Sirius said, in a miffed tone, "_James_ would be happy to do it for me, Harry! Sad that his son has no guts!"

Harry's ineffectual struggles became more shrewd once the spells were lifted, and Kingsley was hurt when a kick connected. Harry's protests were no longer slurred, and becoming more and more panicky. He was still weak from his illness and lack of food, and his best friend held him still, while Hermione made him drink the Cerlikh potion. Tears were in her eyes, but she did it. The headmaster said, and the headmaster knew best. The potion was strong. Within minutes, Harry stopped struggling, and was docile. Tenderly, Hermione wiped his face of the spilt drops of potion. There were not many. They'd become experts at delivering unwanted potions.

Dumbledore nodded, and said, "Kingsley and Jeremy, one on each side."

The big black men, physically matching, took up their positions. Dumbledore cast one last unnecessary cleaning spell, for internal and external purity, but it was Ryan who cast the Sylph Virgo spell. For the first time, Harry heard the words of the incantation clearly spoken. Hermione did, too, but it was not one she knew. She didn't ask questions, though she was beginning to be puzzled. Ron didn't even question. He knew that Dumbledore was right, always, in whatever he did. A lot of people thought that way.

Robert Ryan returned with a message, - it was time. The prisoners were waiting. Dumbledore asked where, and Ryan said, "As agreed. Not too close."

"Very well. Anyone who wants, you can wish him luck. He'll be back in no time, quite unharmed."

Molly Weasley first, and she said, with tears in her voice, "You are beautiful, Harry. I've never seen anyone glow white like that."

Dumbledore said, "His spirit glows, Molly. It takes a spell to show it."

Snape glanced at the hypocritical old man, but said nothing. Poor, poor boy. The Sacrifice. It was a cliché, the Virgin Sacrifice. It was Old Magic, intertwined with Blood Magic, though usually it was a girl, not a boy.

Mr. Weasley wanted to shake his hand, but was told again not to touch. Hermione, Ron, Sirius. Harry was in a world apart. He felt detached, - detached from his magic, detached from his thoughts. The voice inside him was closer. There was no emotion in him, and when he was told to walk, he walked calmly between the Aurors. Just a little way outside, and he was stopped.

Dumbledore strode forward to where Voldemort stood waiting. There were Death Eaters beside him, but not wearing their costume. Dumbledore assumed they were in disguise, maybe glamoured, maybe Polyjuiced. The faces were plump and cheerful, as if they'd never had a difficult day in their lives, - or a cruel thought.

Voldemort was staring at Harry, and Dumbledore chuckled, "I envy you, Tom."

"He looked very different last time I saw him. I still can't understand how he escaped."

"Pure luck, I suspect. Harry's had a lot of luck."

"I intend to treat him gently. His luck continues."

"His sight is very weak past a couple of feet. He probably won't even recognise you if you're careful, not until the last."

"Good." He gave a careless wave towards a distant gathering, "The prisoners for trading, and the Dementors. Pettigrew has an anti-Animagus Charm on him, and they all have Silencing Charms."

"No revolt in the ranks about this?"

"I don't have revolts."

"I do, on occasion. McKenzie objected to the trade."

"Is that why he's not here?"

"He's expecting to be called to a fight."

Voldemort said casually, "Francis, check Harry for any spells, portkeys, anything else, and then you and Robert take the positions of the Aurors." He glanced at Dumbledore, "Though he looks so tempting between the Aurors you chose."

"I thought he would. A picture always needs a frame."

A few hundred yards away, Radastan Lestrange struggled frantically, until he was crippled with a Semi-Paralysis. The Dementor approached. Several Aurors were present, but most averted their eyes. It was an awful thing when a wizard was Kissed, but Voldemort had already shown that Azkaban was not secure, - not when the Dementors answered to Voldemort.

Voldemort still watched Harry, fascinated. He'd like to move closer, to touch, but didn't want to frighten the boy. Fighting and screaming would mar the ceremony. Harry suddenly flinched away to the left, away from the Dementors and prisoners, and whimpered. Voldemort snapped his fingers at one of the Death Eaters, standing not far away, "The Dementors are disturbing Harry. Move them further away. Albus, maybe a Patronus or two between us and the Dementors."

"Of course." Dumbledore thought of that boy the other night, and a silvery, half-formed wraith erupted from his wand.

Voldemort was monitoring his boy's consciousness, and noted when calm returned. It seemed that Harry was particularly sensitive to the emanations of the Dementors. It was always stronger, of course, when a Dementor Kissed his victim. He'd never felt Harry so clearly before. It was Dumbledore who'd made him aware of the mental connection, and he planned to exploit it. He wanted to keep his boy totally calm until the very last. The Cerlikh potion would help, and the soft chanting of the five witnesses would add to the magic, - helping induce calm in the victim, and aiding the magic that opened the pathway between them, like a conduit of magic that flowed to the dominant in the act of sex.

Bellatrix Lestrange was the last of the Death Eaters to be Kissed, and she tried again and again to call for her Master. Surely she was the most devoted of his servants. How could he do this to her? But while Voldemort found Bellatrix entertaining at times, she was unbalanced. No-one spent years in Azkaban and remained fully rational. Like the others, Bellatrix was under the Silencing Spell, and Voldemort merely waited, checking his watch now and then. The ceremony should be as close to midnight as possible.

Voldemort had his own potion to take, for sexual power and endurance. He needed time to drain the boy of his magic. A quick rape would not suffice. It didn't matter if he climaxed more than once, but he would not withdraw from the boy's body until he was satisfied that he could take no more from him. Harry would be a Squib afterwards, or maybe dead. He was standing perfectly still and docile between the Ryan brothers now. The pure glow was muffled where the clothing covered his skin. Voldemort couldn't wait to see him spread out, naked before him. He wondered if he could get him excited but remembered that he should not make any such attempt. The subject had to be innocent, someone who'd never known any sex more than self stimulation.

Harry felt as if he was floating, no longer subject to fear or doubt. He merely reacted, automatically, as he was apparated to Voldemort's hidden home, and then led to a large raised platform, in the shape of a pentagon. He was gently pushed onto a spread of thick white fur. The floor was inscribed with careful designs, and three Death Eaters, all tall and blonde, stood at three corners of the larger pentagon on the floor. The Ryans were handed their Death Eater robes and masks, took up the two remaining places, and softly joined in the whispering chant of the others. One who'd replaced Pettigrew as a personal servant, retired to the wall, and stayed quite silent.

Harry lay on his back, his head filled with the soothing chant. His eyes were open, but he didn't see. Everything was calm. Everything was peace.

A hand ran across his clothed body, and then gently removed the pendant. It was the closest Voldemort had come to him. There were restraints ready, but Voldemort ignored them. He could feel Harry's mind, and there was no thought of revolt, and no awareness that his deadly enemy was anywhere close. He avoided speaking in case his voice was recognised. He was full of his want. Led by Lucius Malfoy, the chant picked up a bit in volume. Voldemort waved a wand, and the clothing vanished. Voldemort's breath hissed. The boy was so beautiful, flawless, - _the innocent child, shining white, in his sixteenth year, at the full of the moon. _The moon was full, and it was nearly midnight. Voldemort whispered to the boy, but only in his mind, _Turn over, Harry. You will be more comfortable lying face down._ Unquestioning, accepting, Harry turned himself prone.

Voldemort quite tenderly moved his legs apart, knelt between, and applied a lotion to his own penis. It was going so well... He couldn't believe that his so-called Nemesis, the Chosen One, lay there underneath him, tamely awaiting rape. He arranged Harry's arms to lie above his head, settled himself closer, and without preliminary, thrust firmly inside the body beneath him. Harry cried out at the burn of torn flesh, and tried to twist away. Voldemort held him still with ease, and continued to thrust steadily, not hard, not fast. The words of the chant changed, and there was a growing excitement in it. It filled Harry's mind. The pain eased, and he stopped trying to escape. The Cerlikh potion was very effective, and he had no thought of resisting it, as he'd resisted the other potions, and even the Twilight Spell. Harry Potter no longer glowed white.

Voldemort didn't resist his impending climax, and cried out in triumph. But there was no Cerlikh transfer of power yet. After a moment, he began moving again, thrusting deep into the boy, slow and rhythmic, wondering if his vessel might become excited as well. It didn't matter now if he did. Voldemort thought he might like it if he did. He'd keep him as a pet afterward, if he lived. He didn't think he'd tire of him very quickly. Was this why the Rite was rarely successful? That the dominant forgot what he was supposed to do in sheer enjoyment? Voldemort concentrated on the link between his mind, and the mind of the boy whom Prophecy called the Child of Light. It was more clear than ever before. _When the Bonds of Blood and Curse are cemented with the Act of Rutthiea...._ Harry's mind was open to him.

Harry lay unthinking, accepting, his body moving slightly under the weight of the man on top of him. He didn't take notice of the first tickle of his magic being accessed by someone who was not himself. But gradually it became an itch, and then a pain. His hand was in front of him, glowing red. Why should it be red? Was a spell on him? His scar twinged, and his mind became a little more clear. There was danger, but _where _was the danger? The chanting was so soothing. There was no pain, except that his forehead hurt. Voldemort tried to impose more control over the boy under him, but he was not subtle enough. Comprehension came to Harry in a rush, Voldemort was on him, in him. _Voldemort!_ And he was doing something, more than using his body. He was taking from him. Harry pushed himself up on his elbows, and screamed with fury. Voldemort thrust harder, seeking to distract him by hurting so that he could regain control. But Harry's body was numb from the use that had gone on for forty minutes now, and there was a far worse danger than that from rape.

The conduit between the pair was wide open, and Harry took back what was his, and then more. Voldemort cried out in fear, and tried to pull himself away from the powerful wizard beneath him. The magic was at work, and he could not withdraw. Within minutes, not knowing what he was doing, Harry had taken all of Voldemort's power for himself. Not merely his power, but his memories and his vast store of knowledge. Harry screamed again, with anger that he'd been used, with anger that he'd been betrayed, given over to his worst enemy.

Quite suddenly, Voldemort fell away from Harry, sprawling on the floor beside him, scarcely conscious. The third scream, of uttermost rage. Voldemort died, the six Death Eaters in the room died, eight others in the mansion died. All the Death Eaters joined to Voldemort by the Dark Mark were affected, most dying, others knocked unconscious. The Dementors, also linked to their Dark Lord, vanished into wisps of dark mist.

In Dumbledore's office, waiting for news, Severus Snape slumped unconscious. Dumbledore was ecstatic. Surely it showed that the Prophecy had been fulfilled. He checked Snape's forearm, noting that the Dark Mark was no longer dark. Could the Monster be dead? Snape's breathing became more and more shallow, and Dumbledore sent him to the Hospital Wing. Two others had been affected, both seventh years, both of them Marked. One was in Gryffindor, one in Slytherin. But it was the middle of the night, and it would not be noticed until morning.

In one of the groupings of Aurors, waiting and expecting action, one fell dead, to the consternation of the leader of the group. On a sudden thought, she checked his forearm, but it was clean. It was known by only a few, but some Death Eaters were marked on the shoulder, the mark no bigger than a mole. Aurors were subject to routine physical checks, and the traditional Dark Mark was not exactly discreet. Rollings had never been suspected of ties to Voldemort.

Ron and Hermione were in the Common Room, unable to sleep. They'd been dismissed straight after Harry had been walked out to meet his fate with promises that they'd know as soon as he arrived back. Ron said, as he'd said so many times, "He was only supposed to be gone a little while." Hermione nodded. Most of Gryffindor slept soundly. As far as the other students knew, Harry was still sick, under the care of the London Healer. But Francis Ryan had never been a Healer, and was now one of the dead.

Harry stumbled away from Voldemort's hidden property, batting aside the wards as if they were cobweb. Raped! He'd been raped by his worst enemy. Or _was _Voldemort his worst enemy? It was Dumbledore who'd handed him over. Hermione who'd forced him to take the potion that took away his judgement. Made helpless for the pleasure of Voldemort. _Why?_ He was shaking from the force of magic that he'd used, and there was the confusion of having Voldemort's experience of life somewhere inside him. He could not look at that now, and he thrust it aside, fencing it off. He was cold and very tired, and full of his hurt.

***chapter end***


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling.

**

_**Chapter 3**__:_

Two children, dressed neatly in school uniform, sat in their small shelter, waiting for the school bus. It was a quiet country lane, with hedges that pressed in too close to the road, making it dangerous for walkers. Jaimee tapped her brother on the shoulder, and pointed at the figure that reeled along one of the wheel tracks. "He has no clothes on!"

They waited silently, as the boy came nearer. Only when he was quite close, did twelve-year-old Michael go to him, asking politely, "Excuse me. Do you need help?"

Harry took no notice, just staggered on. He wanted to go as far away as possible, away from everything. He didn't want any more of it. No more, ever.

Michael took Harry firmly by the arm, and commanded, "Stop. We're going to get our Mum. You can't wander around naked, you know."

Harry stopped, swayed a moment, and then fell face-down on the ground. Michael stared at the blood that showed how he'd been abused. Unlike in the magical world, Muggle schools had some quite explicit sex lessons. It was hard to imagine that those things ever really happened, but it had happened to this boy, probably around his own age. He touched the boy on his shoulder, and said quietly, "It's all right. We can help you."

Harry slept a long time, not stirring when he was taken to the local hospital, photographed, tested for drugs, and semen samples were taken. Only then was he properly washed, and his wounds treated. The soles of his feet were the worst. Without magical healing for the deeper cuts, he would not be able to walk without pain for some time. The injury from the rape was not as bad as the blood had indicated. It would heal by itself.

Thankfully, they gave him time to recover and time to think before a policeman came in to interview him. He must not tell them anything about the magical world. If Mugglekind knew about Anirage, there could be another Holocaust. It was the only thing that the History teacher became passionate about.

Harry told the policeman he was Ricky Drayton, aged thirteen, his birthday in October, but that he must not tell anyone where he was, or 'they' would be after him. He was silent when they asked who _they_ were, but gave the name of Albus Dumbledore, and a full description, naming him as the one who'd sold him to another man for the purpose of rape.

"Ever happened before?"

Harry answered, "I've been abused all my life, one way or another, but this was the first rape." He added, spitefully, "Dumbledore always wears funny looking robes, like an ageing hippy. I think his mind has been addled by a lifetime of drug-taking, but he gives the impression of being wise. If you find him, please be rough."

The policeman smiled slightly, "Yes, Ricky. I think he deserves that we be rough."

Harry sighed, "You have no idea."

He hadn't really blamed Dumbledore for the Dursleys before, or even for the life-threatening situations he'd found himself in once he entered the magical world, but now his eyes were opened. He'd come to the conclusion that there were two Dark Lords plaguing the magical world. If he was dragged back into that world, sooner or later, he would _kill _Dumbledore. He didn't want to be dragged back into that world. He wanted a quieter, more peaceful home.

It was Saturday before Severus Snape moaned and stirred. He felt dreadful. Madam Pomfrey said quietly, "As soon as you're able to move a little, I'll give you a headache and general pain potion."

Severus cranked open his eyes, and croaked, "What happened, Poppy?"

"It is not known if You Know Who is still alive, but every Marked Death Eater appears to have been either killed or knocked unconscious, probably as a result of his death. Harry has not been located, and neither have the headquarters of the Dark One."

"Harry must be dead."

"We don't think so."

He didn't find out why Harry was thought to be alive until much later that day, when he could move a little without feeling as if his head would fall off. But then Poppy Pomfrey showed him a Muggle newspaper, with a quite well drawn likeness of Dumbledore on the front cover, and the words, 'Have you seen this man?' He tried to read it, but his eyes refused to focus, and Poppy read it for him, and summarised, "He is named, and accused of providing a boy for the purposes of prostitution. It states that an exhausted teenage boy was found naked, and with injuries from rape. The boy is not named, and his whereabouts not disclosed."

"The Dark Lord has to be dead."

"No-one dares celebrate, not until his body is found."

"The mark on my arm has faded to almost white, paler than it was when he vanished for all those years. I think he has to be dead."

"The other two Death Eaters in the school, - their marks were a lot more recent, but they too, are very faded."

"Who?"

"Peter Liddicombe, and Sean Bowen, but both still alive. Bowen's a Gryffindor. Minerva is mortified, didn't think that a _Gryffindor _could do such a thing. He still hasn't regained consciousness, and I'm concerned that there may be permanent brain injury."

Madam Pomfrey's voice was suddenly penetrating, "How did Voldemort procure Harry, Severus?"

Snape looked down at the newspaper, and thought himself lucky that he hadn't been named as criminal himself. He almost pleaded, "If the Dark Lord is dead, along with many of his Death Eaters, it was not a crime..."

"_What _was not a crime, Severus?"

There was an "Ahem," and Poppy turned, gave the headmaster a look of utmost disapproval, and then flounced away.

Dumbledore asked, "She been quizzing you?"

"Was it a terrible thing we did, Albus?"

"The Ministry was riddled with Death Eaters, and that's not counting the ones who were only knocked unconscious and we're not sure of yet. Five members of the Wizemgamot died, two members of the School Council, not counting Lucius Malfoy, who is missing."

"Any dead among the students or teachers?"

"No, but several students have lost their fathers, Pansy Parkinson her mother as well. Some are still missing."

"When I am a little better, I will visit his headquarters and see what has happened."

"Can you lead Aurors there?"

"Maybe. There may only be the Muggle-repelling wards left now."

Snape asked again, "Was it a terrible thing we did, Albus? The Muggle newspaper certainly seem to think so."

"When I get hold of that boy.... Accusing me of such a thing, and to Muggles! It's not that I'm seen around Muggle places much in any case, but now.... I've already had letters from some of the Muggle parents. They don't seem to realise! We did not do a terrible thing, Severus. You and I, - and Harry, we saved our world. Minister Fudge recognises that. Once the death is confirmed, the celebrations will go on for weeks."

Harry wanted nothing to do with the magical world ever again. He would have liked his wand, but knew that he could work magic without it now, at least small things. But there was the photograph album, with the documents he wanted. The invisibility cloak as well, but nothing was important enough to go back for. When he thought of them all, he felt himself sick with his fury. He tried never to think of them. Probably they wouldn't want him anyway, now that he'd done their job for them,

The social worker came. He maintained that he had no parents, no guardian, and refused to give any information about anything that had happened to him. Donna finally sighed, "Well, you might as well stay in hospital for a few more days, at least until you can walk."

Harry said tentatively, "When I was little, I was told that at an orphanage, you were beaten every day, dressed in rags, and fed on foul tasting gruel." He was not looking at Donna, but said, "It's not that I believed it, and anyway, I was beaten quite frequently where I lived, and never had enough to eat."

Donna reached across, took his hand, and squeezed it, "Wherever you go, you can rest assured you will not be beaten and will not be starved."

"Would I go to school?"

"Of course."

"I'd like that." Harry was feeling strange, half hopeful, half numb. He was still so tired, and let himself drift. He needed time to heal.

****

It was Wednesday again. The moon was no longer full. Harry limped to the window, and stared out. He could walk now. Only his left heel was still painful, with a deep cut across it. He didn't know what had caused it, and was unclear just exactly when it had all happened. He was at a private charity home, more discreet than the larger, public ones. It was rundown, but on the beach. They called it Kreighley Beach Home. Harry couldn't wait until he could walk well enough to properly explore. He hadn't started school yet, but had been told he was to see a psychologist. Donna said it wasn't good to keep things to himself, and had ignored him when he said he had no intention of talking.

He wore glasses again. Properly fitted for him, as his old glasses had never been. Even with less conspicuous frames. Except for the prying psychologist, he felt as if he was being treated with more consideration than he'd ever known.

His room-mate strutted over to him, and said, hands on hips, "I know who you are. Someone fucked you, and so you ran away."

Harry shrugged. So there were still bullies. What else was new? When the time came, if necessary, he'd fight the boy, sufficient to hurt him, and then he'd probably be left alone.

Snape wrinkled his nose at the smell of death. Voldemort looked singed, naked body crumpled on the floor next to the raised platform. The white fur showed bloodstains, but they already knew that Harry had been raped. He went to the first of the Death Eaters lying on the floor, and removed his mask. Abernathy. Then Bulstrode and the Ryan brothers. He smiled when he unmasked Malfoy. So good to see him dead. One of the new recruits in the corner. He'd screamed when the mark was inflicted, and had been terrified when he was chosen as a personal servant. Those closest to Voldemort lived a precarious life. Snape went to collect the Aurors.

****

Friday, 24th September. It was a meeting at the Ministry. Cornelius Fudge, Vance McKenzie, who was the Chief Auror, Amelia Bones, whose advice Fudge valued, and Albus Dumbledore. Few important decisions were made without his input. There was also Severus Snape. They were discussing the news that Harry Potter had been located. McKenzie was still appalled that he'd allowed him to be handed over, not quite understanding how he'd been persuaded. He'd even cooperated!

Dumbledore saw it all as his shining triumph, and the Prophecy, as had been relayed to Kingsley and Jeremy, was now public. And that was one of the strangest things to McKenzie. Two of his Aurors had cooperated with Dumbledore, and kept their superior in the dark. They couldn't explain how they'd been willing to go along with it, - to hand over an innocent fifteen-year-old boy to be the victim of Dark Magic. What if it had gone wrong? The boy would have been raped, and the Dark Lord yet stronger.

It hadn't gone wrong. The Dark Lord was dead. His body was in a side room of the Ministry, placed under a stasis spell, and rendered odourless. The idea was for people to see his body, in order to understand that the Monster was indeed dead. Two Aurors prevented anyone from defacing the body, but spitting on it was allowed, even encouraged.

McKenzie was talking, "I spoke to a psychiatrist, the equivalent of a Mind Healer. He's seen him twice, but says he won't talk. The boy doesn't know we know where he is, and I'm thinking it might be best simply to leave him alone to heal."

Dumbledore said gently, "Oh, I really don't think we dare do that, my dear boy. Just think of the power he's demonstrated! Can you think he will not betray himself to the Muggles? And they admit his mind is affected. After all, giving my name and description to Muggle authorities shows that he cannot be trusted."

While McKenzie was still stewing about being addressed as 'my dear boy,' Amelia said sharply, "He accused you of selling him for rape. Was there anything not factual in that accusation?"

Dumbledore turned to Amelia, his hands in his sleeves, "My dear lady. We have triumphed, have we not? _Victory for the Side of Light... Victory before the leaves fall........_. And it's not as if he was much hurt. _Treated with tenderness and care. _It was a part of the Prophecy."

Snape drawled, "No it wasn't, actually. That was what I told Voldemort, remember, in the hope that it would not be too violent. The true Prophecy ended, _Shame for the Side of Light..... Shame! The innocent child lost and broken.... The Child of Light lost and broken...."_

Amelia whispered, _"The innocent child lost and broken_."

Dumbledore said, gently, warmly, "Amelia! It is not that bad!"

McKenzie was dry. "A moment ago you said his mind was affected."

Dumbledore turned the force of his Mind-Magic onto McKenzie, and McKenzie, for a moment, felt himself agreeing that it wasn't so bad, before suddenly exclaiming, "Dumbledore, get your hands out of your sleeves!"

Fudge turned a look of enquiry to him, and McKenzie growled, "The swine's been using Mind-Magic. It's how he gets his own way."

Fudge asked, "Albus?"

Dumbledore made an effort, and laughed, "What nonsense!" He shook his head, smiling slightly, "I have lived a long time you know. I see further than most people. I cannot be blamed if people listen to me!"

"There's a simple way to disprove this accusation, Professor. Give me your wand, and I'll perform a _Priori Incantatum." _

Dumbledore stood with dignity, "I will not stay to be insulted. Severus, come with me."

Severus Snape just stared at him. How had he not realised? He was supposed to be skilled in Legilimency, Occlumency, and yet this related magic had escaped him. It was viewed as Dark. It was illegal. When had the headmaster started using it?

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at his hesitation, for once looking haughty instead of benign, and walked out alone.

McKenzie growled, "I should have arrested him!"

"And had a hundred powerful people demanding immediate release with apology! He's a powerful man."

Fudge asked, "Do you think he really uses Mind-Magic?"

McKenzie was disgusted with himself. "He has to be. He can't make it very strong without a verbal incantation, but we all have a conscience, surely! Would we have agreed to this?"

"Sacrificing the boy did give us victory."

Amelia said, "And now he's lost and broken."

Snape looked at his fingers, and said, "Reluctant as I am at this point to agree with Albus, the boy has always been volatile. I don't believe we can run the risk of him exposing our world to Mugglekind."

****

Harry's room-mate viewed himself as tough. He'd had to be. His father was a drunk, his mother an imprisoned drug-dealer. Every second word that Christopher Vale spoke was profanity, but he only stole from those he said could afford it, and was doing well at Kreighley. There had been a brief fistfight earlier, when Harry had managed to impress him by his speed, even if Chris thought he didn't hit very hard. He had a black eye, and Harry had a split lip. They'd come to an understanding, and walked together along the beach, Chris talking, Harry listening. Harry was still limping, but only a little.

Snape watched closely, and Madam Pomfrey shaded her eyes to see better. It had been agreed that Harry was to be treated with utmost consideration, but he would be returned to his world. Once there, they'd ensure he would not be able to leave the grounds. Kingsley and Jeremy were to do duty as bodyguards again, ostensibly because there could be vengeance attacks, but also because Harry was seen as unpredictable. It depended on how obedient he was now, as to whether he'd be given back his wand. Dumbledore was adamant that it should be withheld, while Amelia and McGonnagal, and oddly enough, Snape, argued that he should be given every tolerance.

Snape and Madam Pomfrey were both in Muggle clothing, and Harry didn't notice them until they stepped in front of the pair. But then he stared, eyes widening, and the colour draining from his face. It appeared as if he would faint. Snape said, quite gently, "Time to go home, Potter."

Harry breathed, "No!" but he still looked at him, hypnotised. There was a mutter of thunder in the background, and Snape and Poppy could feel the waves of undirected magic rolling off him.

Chris looked from one to the other, then punched his friend on the arm, and said, urgently, "_Run,_ Ricky!"

It was the signal, and Harry turned and fled, Chris slightly behind him, putting himself between his new found friend, and the threatening strangers. Snape put his wand away, and Madam Pomfrey remarked, with a biting sarcasm, "He doesn't trust us, does he?"

Harry was in a full blown panic. He just ran, not looking back, into the water when the beach ran out, and around a steep headland, leaving Chris behind. Chris called out, as he had before, "They didn't follow, Ricky. Don't be silly!" Chris didn't tell anyone that the new boy had run. That would have been snitching. His childhood had been a lot like Harry's, and like Harry, he tended not to look to adults for help.

Harry crept back very cautiously late that evening, not to go back to bed, but to demand that they instantly take him somewhere else, - a different name, different birthdate. Davies, the one in charge, said, "So your name is not Ricky Drayton?"

Harry begged, "Please, Sir. I need to go now, tonight. They'll be back for me in the morning."

Davies sighed. The boy would only run away if he was not pandered to. He knew boys, and he knew this one was very afraid. He said, "Then go pack your things."

"They might be waiting in my room. If you just take me, now, that would be best. And don't tell anyone where I went."

"Stay here then. I'll pack your things for you, and we'll go."

"You won't tell anyone?"

"It will be kept very quiet."

Only when they were in the car and on their way, did Davies say, "You know, Ricky, it would really be best if you gave us your correct name, and told us exactly where you came from."

"My name is Mervyn Astbury. I'm sixteen, and my birthday was yesterday."

Davies said sceptically, "You're very small for sixteen."

"Not enough to eat when I was little, I think."

"Really? Sixteen?"

"Where are we going?"

"To my sister for a few days, until I can think of something better."

"Did you phone her?"

"I thought it best not to. These people who are after you, you seem to think they're powerful."

Harry sighed, "Very powerful. If they really want me, they'll take me, I think."

Harry had two more days of freedom, but he was unhappy, and spent time looking at the ships in the harbour. Maybe if he stowed away, he'd be untraceable.

****

Rumours were flying among the Hogwarts students. It was known that Harry Potter was in the Hospital Wing, from two third-year Hufflepuffs, who'd had an accident in potions. They'd just been released, and were finding themselves mobbed. "Is it true that he destroyed the Hospital Wing?"

David answered, "When he woke up, the moment he realised where he was. We were at the other end of the ward. They tried to stop him getting out of bed, and they were just thrown back and then the windows broke. Other things, too."

"Accidental magic, then?"

"I guess. He's not allowed his wand."

David said, "They put him in a separate room, and I heard Snape yelling at him to behave. Said that no-one was about to hurt him."

Tony said, "My father's Chief Auror. He spoke to me, said to be nice to him because he's saved thousands of lives and stopped a war almost before it began. Just that he's a bit upset right now."

There was little news for a few days, except that the Muggle papers spoke of the mystery boy going missing. There was a country-wide search for him, and descriptions of Snape and Madam Pomfrey, from Chris. The description of Snape was relished by the Hogwarts students, that he had long black hair, big nose, and 'looked a proper bastard.' According to the papers, Harry had been well-behaved at the unnamed institution, very quiet, and the friend was quoted as saying that he'd _kill _the ones who'd taken him if he could. And then it was rumoured that he was to be sent to St. Mungo's, a closed ward. Mentally unstable, it was said. Neville scarcely spoke that day. To think that Harry might be locked away with those who were no longer rational. He'd be with his own parents, who'd been broken by torture, and with Gilderoy Lockhart!

Snape, Dumbledore and McGonnagal were in conference with Vance McKenzie, Mind Healer Heather Clitheroe, and Amelia Bones, who was acting for Fudge. No-one looked Dumbledore in the eye, he didn't adopt his favourite posture of hands in his sleeves, and he didn't speak again of his hope that Potter could be shuffled off to St. Mungo's and forgotten, - not after Snape had quietly threatened him earlier in the day. If Dumbledore put any obstacle in the way of his rehabilitation, or if he became ill or died, certain things would come to light about Dumbledore's past, certain things that could result in a criminal trial.

Amelia summarised the agreement, - "So he's to return to Gryffindor Tower, Severus to provide the potions, and take care to vary them sufficiently that he does not become addicted. Plus he's to have Binding Bracelets, so he's not a danger to himself or others."

Heather said, "He's to go to every class whether he wants to or not, but he's not to be forced to participate. He goes to meals, but otherwise he's free to do his homework, or wander, whatever he wants."

"Not after curfew, obviously."

"He'll sleep at night. The potions will ensure that."

Amelia asked, "Will it work, Heather?"

"I hope so. Surrounded by his friends, back in the routine, I expect him to gradually begin to feel that he is not surrounded by enemies, that this betrayal of trust will not be repeated."

"He's never actually spoken to you, has he?"

"Not a word, but what was done to him.... He cannot be expected to understand why it happened. He is filled with anger."

"And you're going to see him frequently?"

"Straight after classes, Monday, Wednesday and Friday. It might take time."

The Gryffindors were very interested when Professor McMillan, who taught Practical Construction, was joined by Flitwick and Snape in the Gryffindor Common Room. With the decline in the Aniragi population over the last century, there were unused dormitories in each of the House areas. But now a concealed door was opened, and a doorway revealed. Ron suddenly said, "A room for Harry, isn't it? Is it a privilege or a prison?"

Snape cast a sneer in his direction, but Flitwick replied, "His bodyguards have to stay close, that's all. This room is more secure for him. Also if anyone seeks revenge, it means that no-one else is likely to be hurt."

The men worked for three hours, renewing and modernising the old bathroom, and then dividing the dormitory into three rooms separated by lockable doors. Harry's bedroom was at the far end, furthest from the exit door, then a sitting room, with study area and bookshelves. It was big enough for three or four people to use, - to talk, or do homework together. Off to the side, through another lockable door, were the bathroom and toilets, originally designed for a dozen boys. Next to the door into the Common Room was the bedroom that the two Aurors would share. It was mostly to be Jeremy and Kingsley, since they were familiar to everyone. No-one asked Harry whether he liked having the two Aurors always close, the same who had led him out to Lord Voldemort.

McGonnagal and the Healer visited Gryffindor Tower later that day, and explained to the students that Harry had to do as he was told, and they were not to interfere in any required discipline.

Neville asked, "Can we talk to him?"

The Healer replied, "He's a wonderful boy, a little traumatised. Talk to him, try and treat him as normally as possible." She paused, and added, "Never, ever, refer to what happened. If there's anything we don't need, is for his temper to get out of control."

Someone asked timidly, "He _is_ safe, isn't he? He won't hurt us, will he?"

"His magic has been Bound for the time being. And his guards will soon stop him if he attacks physically. But there's no reason for him to attack any of you."

"There's a rumour that he attacked the headmaster."

"The headmaster is a great man, who made a difficult decision for the greater good. It hurts him that Harry is so angry. He was not punished for attacking, just stopped."

Saturday afternoon, two and a half weeks after the Rite of Cerlikh.Harry stood at the window of the Hospital Wing when the Healer and Snape walked in. Harry ignored them, still staring at the view of the Forbidden Forest, which he could scarcely see except for a dark blur, distinguishable from the sky by its lack of brightness. In an action that already seemed like a nervous habit, he pulled at one of the wrist-bands, the Binding Bracelets. The windows were solidly barred, and the door specifically warded to prevent his departure, though it didn't affect anyone else.

Snape said civilly, "Hello, Harry."

Harry neither replied nor looked at him. He hated his whole world, and Snape was a part of his world.

Snape said, "Healer Clitheroe told me you said you wanted to leave. That we'd never hear from you again." Harry glanced at him, and Snape continued, "You need to be clear that you will _not_ be allowed to leave. You are not mentally stable, and the danger of magical outbursts in front of Muggles is too great. Put escape out of your head." Harry looked back out the window.

Snape continued in a matter-of-fact voice. "You will not be harshly treated in any way, but you must abide by reasonable rules. You do not attack anybody, whether or not you feel they deserve it. You take your potions when ordered. A long acting calming potion every morning, and a sleeping potion every night before retiring. When you stop fighting the potions, you can have your glasses back. Rest assured that the potions will never again be used to take advantage of you. They are because you are too angry, and therefore dangerous." He paused, but wasn't surprised when he was still apparently ignored. He knew the boy was listening.

"You return to normal school life this evening after dinner. Two Aurors will be with you at all times until it is no longer deemed necessary. You will have your own room, but you are only allowed to be alone there at night. It is not good for you to brood alone. You should be interacting with your classmates, and from Monday, you attend classes and meals. The Aurors will ensure that, but otherwise, you have normal freedom. When it is deemed safe, the Binding Bracelets will be removed, and your wand returned. Any questions?"

Harry jerked harder at one of the bracelets around his wrist. Impervious to physical interference, it was a constant irritation. It was a physical hurt as well as a restriction that fretted him unbearably.

Snape's voice softened, "You did something for us all that no-one else could have done. No-one wants you to be unhappy."

Harry snapped a look of black hatred at him. Snape flinched, feeling a sudden guilt. But the sacrifice had been the _rational_ thing to do. The result was well worth one boy's life, let alone a few minor injuries and some mental distress.

Albus Dumbledore hadn't been to see Harry since he'd been attacked. He was quite sure that the Aurors had been deliberately slow to intervene. The bruises on his body had been treated, but he'd left the ones on his face. His left eye was half-shut and reddened. He peered in the mirror, and practised hobbling a little, though there was no soreness in his body. He had a difficult job to do this evening. He had to explain his actions, and win back the allegiance of his students. He dressed with care, selecting one of his more subdued robes. He practised his sad expression.

Once the students appeared to be finishing their meal, he rose to his feet, taking care to move slowly, and apparently painfully. When he moved to the lectern for his speech, there was an immediate hush. He cast the spell to have each person in the room hear, even when his voice was hushed, and commenced, very softly.

"Harry Potter. He's been called the Child of Prophecy, the Child of Light, sometimes the Marked Child of Light. The Chosen One. We know from a Prophecy made many years ago that our Harry was the only one with the ability to kill the powerful wizard known as Lord Voldemort. There was another Prophecy made just a couple of months ago, which showed us the way that it could be achieved. You've all seen the newspapers. You know what was involved. You also know that I took action to make it happen. It hurt me to hurt my dearest boy, but I did it."

He straightened, as if painfully. "None of you remember much of the first war, but so many lost their lives, fighting that our way of life may continue. Others were tortured. Some never recovered. Voldemort was a sadistic monster, and none of you should glorify his memory. His followers were expected to approach him, crawling, and then kiss the hem of his robe. If he was displeased, he was as quick to hurt his loyal followers as he was to hurt his enemies. He used to Brand his Death Eaters. It is difficult to understand that any allowed it. They would not have allowed it, surely, if they knew that his death, through the Dark Mark, would also affect them."

He sighed, obviously, and touched his face, as if it was bothering him. He spoke again, softly, "_Victory for the Side of Light... Victory before the leaves fall........ Victory this year..... A sacrifice..... This Victory depends on the sacrifice of the Marked One. Betrayed by his friends, hurt by his enemy. Subject to the Rite of Cerlikh........ When innocence is defiled, when understanding comes, his anger will be unleashed, his power released...... His anger is the key... The Marked Child of Light must know the Dark in order to vanquish the Lord of the Dark. The innocent child, shining white, in his sixteenth year, at the full of the moon. Victory for the Side of Light before the leaves fall. Shame for the Side of Light..... Shame! The innocent child lost and broken.... The Child of Light lost and broken.... _

"The Prophecy said _Shame for the Side of Light. Shame._ Am I ashamed for what I engineered? I am grief stricken that Harry was so hurt. It hurts me that he is hurt, - lost and broken as the Prophecy states. But am I ashamed? Harry is just fifteen. He is quite a promising Defence student, he did unexpectedly well in the Triwizard Tournament, but defeat the Dark Lord? Maybe, if he trained hard for ten years. But the chance came that he could do it now, before anyone else was hurt. Yes, I sacrificed him, the one I love as I would have loved my own grandson. And all I can do now is beg you to be kind to my poor, hurt boy. He is filled with anger now, and I cannot blame him. He inflicted these bruises on me, but I've chosen not to heal them. I should share just a little of his pain. Am I ashamed?"

Dumbledore shook his head, and said, in ringing tones, "I would do it again, to save our world. _Now,_ not in ten years, or twenty years, but now! I have saved lives. I have stopped people being tortured. I have prevented Muggles from being killed just because they were Muggles. I would make the same decision again. It hurts me, it bitterly hurt poor Harry, but, - I did do the right thing."

He went to sit down, and the teachers started to clap, though few with much enthusiasm. Many of the students followed, but not all. And then there was some hissing from a group of Hufflepuff girls. It spread, but the clapping was louder, and there was a tacit decision among the teachers to pretend not to hear the hissing.

McGonnagal rose, and said, "Tonight, Harry is to return to Gryffindor Tower. There are restrictions on his magic, and on his movements. No student is to make rude remarks about these restrictions that would make him more unhappy than he is. No students should interfere with his bodyguards. Like the headmaster, I _beg_ you to be kind to him."

Snape said afterwards, "Admirable performance, Headmaster. You were at your best today."

"Thank you, Severus."

Dumbledore returned to his office, still headmaster, still influential, still Chairman of the Wizemgamot. He would have to stop using Mind-Magic. One of the teachers had reported that he'd been asked what it was, - an indication that rumours were spreading further.

Severus Snape waited until the Slytherins were back in their Common Room before he called a House Meeting. He was brief. "Harry Potter rid us of the Dark Lord. As a consequence, some of you have lost members of your families. Peter Liddicombe was expelled, as was one of the Gryffindors. Do not think of taking vengeance. That Harry has enormous magical power is only a start. Once he comes of age, he will be wealthy and powerful. Almost certainly he will be given an Order of Merlin, which puts him automatically in line for an invitation to serve as a member of the Wizemgamot. It would be foolish indeed to alienate him. Schooldays are not forgotten when one becomes an adult, as I've told you before. It is the reason that indiscriminate bullying is short-sighted, as well as cruel. Better to _befriend_ those who are to be powerful, rather than to make their lives more difficult. I recommend you be kind to Mr. Potter."

Draco Malfoy slumped further into his chair. He loathed Potter, always had, but now he would not have to have an ugly mark painfully burned into his arm. His mother had confided to him months ago that his father had admitted that the Dark Lord was not what he was, - paranoid, and with an erratic temper. His father was dead now, of course. So many dead. Rich and influential Pure-bloods. Heads of families. No-one thought it had been a deliberate act of Potter's, but blamed it on the connection between he and the Dark Lord, when the transfer of power had backfired. Strange to think that if he'd been just a couple of years older, and Marked, he might have been dead. He'd heard that the Gryffindor seventh year, Sean Bowen, was still in a coma.

The Gryffindors were hushed as they poured into the Common Room after dinner. Harry was already there, standing by one of the windows, that now had far more solid bars covering it than it had had in the past. It had been done earlier in the day, every window in the Common Room, and every window from the bathrooms and dormitories.

Ron and Hermione stared at him. He looked so small, rather pale, and defenceless without his glasses. He was fiddling with one of the wrist-bands he wore. They looked and felt like leather, black and seamless. There were runes inscribed on them, in pure silver. They were not adornments, but part of the power that prevented him from using his magic. Hermione whispered, "Binding Bracelets are Dark Magic. They must have special Ministry permission to use them."

Ron took a deep breath, "He's our friend. If I simply ask if he wants to play Wizard Chess or something?"

"I guess." For once, Hermione didn't know what to do. For so many years there had been the three of them, but now she looked at a stranger. She still remembered that picture as he left them. Looking so small next to the big Aurors, and glowing white. She should have guessed what it was about when she'd seen how he was dressed, even with jewellery. He'd asked for help, and instead, Ron had helped hold him, and she'd poured the potion down his throat.

Harry didn't acknowledge them when they greeted him. They were trying to be cheerful, telling him it was Sunday tomorrow, and maybe they could go see if Hagrid had come back yet. They glanced at each other, and Hermione said, brightly, that he'd have to study hard, after missing almost three weeks of work. Harry still had his back turned to them, but he'd started to tremble. The Aurors moved closer.

Ron said, awkwardly, "Wizard Chess, Mate? Exploding Snap?"

Hermione said sadly, "Please, Harry. We're your friends! Don't treat us like this!"

Harry whirled on them, and hissed, "You are not my friends!"

The Aurors moved, pulling them away, and Jeremy said, "Leave him alone. He's not to be upset!"

Harry still glared at them, and they retreated, Hermione trying to hold back her tears. Harry glanced at the door that led to his bedroom, but Kingsley said, "Not yet. You're not allowed to brood alone in your room."

Neville was close by, and asked, quietly, "Is he allowed to invite people into his room?"

"As long as we think it's safe, he has the freedom to do much as he pleases."

Harry was tired after his upsurge of emotion, and sat in a chair next to a table. He fingered a magazine that had been left there, but he couldn't even read without his glasses. He could make out pictures to some extent, and if the print was large, like a headline. They didn't realise what a punishment taking his glasses was. Not just the practical things, but he felt so helpless. He _hated_ not being able to see.

After a while, three sixth years joined him at the table. They didn't talk to him, but simply started doing some homework, discussing it now and then. Harry's trembling gradually died away. With his apparent decreased tension, Charlie said casually, "It's been lovely weather, Harry. You could come for a walk with us tomorrow if you like."

With an impatient motion, Harry pushed away the magazine, and went to the window again, pacing back and forth in front of it, glancing out every now and then.

At last, Jeremy said, trying to project calm, "Bedtime now, Harry."

Harry froze. Bedtime meant Potion Time, and he _hated_ being forced to take the potion. They thought it was disobedience, but it was more like terror. Maybe because he'd learned early in life that adults could not be trusted, - this latest betrayal had cemented it in his mind. He could not trust. Each time he fought, and with all he had. But he did have some pride left, and he didn't want the others to see this twice daily humiliation. Not looking left or right, Harry stalked to his bedroom. There were some calls of goodnight. He didn't notice them, already breathing short in his panic.

He was instructed to get ready for bed. He complied, jerkily. Then Kingsley sat on the bed, and said reasonably, "You should take this move as a new beginning, Harry. Relax, take it easy, and in no time you can have your wand back. You're with your fellow students, on Monday you return to classes. This is your OWL year. You need to study."

Harry knew it made sense. If he did everything they wanted, then surely they'd stop the punishment. Then he could leave. Once he had access to his magic, they couldn't keep him.

But his tension broke into flat panic as they approached, phial of potion in Kingsley's big hand. It didn't take long, and they quite gently lifted him into the bed, and tucked him in. Kingsley asked where they'd put the anti-bruising lotion. They tried very hard not to hurt the boy, but the boy didn't hesitate to hurt them.

***chapter end***


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

**

_**Chapter 4:**_

Harry woke early the following morning, staring at the unfamiliar surroundings. Sluggishly, he rose and stared out the barred window, feeling the light. It was a sunny day. Some of his things had been put away in drawers and wardrobes by the House Elves, but most were still in his trunk. His photograph album was safe, the items it concealed still there. He tucked that away again, and then pulled out his invisibility cloak, and draped it over himself. It was like many magical items, only worked properly on a wizard, and at the moment he had no magic. He looked half solid. His Marauder's Map? He didn't have his wand, of course, but tried the words anyway. It didn't work. He went to have his shower.

Kingsley sighed when he heard the alarm that indicated that Harry was moving around. He didn't like this job, treating the boy like he was a prisoner, maybe a mental patient, but at least he and Jeremy would be good to him. He wasn't at all sure that some of the others would be. Aurors were seldom sympathetic types.

The showers and toilets were adjacent to the original dormitory, and accessed through the sitting room. He roused Jeremy before he went to take his own shower. One had to be thoroughly awake before dealing with an unpredictable teenager, though at least the outbursts of uncontrollable magic had ceased with the use of the Bracelets. It was very lucky no-one had been hurt.

At last they were all dressed, the two men in their Aurors' uniform, a badged cape, black with a narrow red border. Harry was in the cheap Muggle clothing provided by his aunt in the Summer holidays. Cautiously, the Aurors scanned the sitting room for potential weapons before asking whether Harry was going to be reasonable, and take the potion without a fight. Harry looked at his feet, and jerked at the wrist-band in the nervous action they'd learned to interpret. Jeremy said, in a pleading tone, "Please don't fight us, Harry. We have to do this."

Harry suddenly dodged past them, through their room, and pulled frantically at the exit door. He needed escape!

Without hurry, the Aurors followed him, and Jeremy said, "The door will not open without magic. You do not go out until after you have the Calming Potion. You know that."

Harry could see where the Aurors were, but only knew who was who from their voices. Kingsley had a very deep, rich voice, Jeremy's was more ordinary. He was the more cheerful one, Kingsley usually rather solemn. Harry started pleading. He hadn't done that before, - "Let me go. I swear I won't work magic. You'll never hear from me again. _Please!"_

Kingsley flicked his eyes to Jeremy, who lunged forward, and grabbed Harry around the waist, quite quickly managing to restrain his fists, and trying to stay out of reach of kicking feet. Harry fought, managing to jerk an elbow back into Jeremy's ribs, making him grunt, and kicking high at Kingsley, aiming for the phial of potion but missing. Poor eyesight was as much of a handicap in a fight as his slight physique.

Kingsley forced his mouth open, and he choked over the potion. Job done. They let go, and he collapsed to his knees, wanting to cry and refusing to cry. He hated them, hated all wizards, hated his world, where horrible things happened. He wanted to be on the beach, getting to know Chris, knowing the simplicity of a more civilised world, a world with no wizards.

After a few moments, an artificial calm washed over him, and when Kingsley softly told him to go and wash his face, and then they'd go to breakfast, he did as he was told.

Hermione and Ron had been waiting, and started to go to him, but Jeremy took a swift step forward, and shook his head. He didn't interfere with Charlie, Bruce and Ian, the sixth years who'd suggested he go for a walk with them. They sat close at breakfast, and chatted casually about the pleasant weather they'd been having lately. Charlie said, "Indian Summer, some call it."

"Maybe, but the leaves are falling," and then flinched and looked at Harry. No-one was supposed to refer to anything to do with 'the incident.' But Harry hadn't been told the details of the Prophecy, and the phrase meant nothing to him.

So hard to think. Kingsley had also been eating, while Jeremy stood not far behind him. Once Kingsley was finished, they swapped places. Harry was told to stay where he was. It didn't occur to him to argue. He just waited. Charlie asked the Aurors if they had to be with him all the time, and Jeremy replied, "We're to be close enough to stop him being hurt. We can use our own judgement just how close that is."

"If we stay with him? Take him for a walk outside?"

"I'm sure he'd like that."

Charlie asked, "Harry? Come with us for a walk?"

Harry didn't reply, and when Ian asked again, and he looked up, he noticed how blank his eyes seemed. Harry was obviously not himself, but the sixth years put it down to continuing shock over what had happened to him, and maybe too, the backlash of magic from when he'd destroyed Voldemort.

Outside. Harry felt the sunshine, and he stopped, looking around. Ian said, "We'll go down to the lake, Harry."

After a while, as they wandered, Charlie dropped back with Jeremy, while Ian and Bruce walked either side of Harry, speaking now and then, but not expecting an answer any more, and not trying to influence his direction. Kingsley walked a little to the side, with his usual air of being ready for anything.

Charlie observed to Jeremy, "Harry used to be a bit like you and Kingsley, always very aware of his surroundings. He's not like that any more, like he's in a daze."

"He's under the influence of quite a strong Calming potion."

"He just does what you say."

Jeremy said ruefully, "Not always."

"Did Dumbledore do the right thing, do you think?"

Jeremy didn't answer, and Charlie finally said, "I was talking to two of the seventh years. They said their fathers had told them they were to take the Dark Mark, but they didn't want to. Now their fathers are dead, but they'll never have to crawl to Voldemort."

"I suspect a lot of youngsters are very relieved. Voldemort ruined lives."

"Sean told me that one of his objectives was to eliminate all Muggle-borns, because they were an obscenity, and because they were a threat. But it's not their fault, is it? That their mothers were raped by a wizard."

"No, but it shouldn't happen. And if it does, the anti-conception spell should be used along with the obliviate."

"My father told me that, also that some wizards _liked _leaving cuckoos in Muggle nests, that it's why there are so many Muggle-born."

"Muggle-baiting has always gone on. In peace-time, it's an Auror's main duty, to try and prevent it."

"Is it true that raping a Muggle is only punishable by a fine?"

"A hefty fine, and it's gaol if the Muggle is badly hurt, or left pregnant."

Charlie nodded toward Harry. "He was raped. I can hardly imagine how it must have felt."

Jeremy quoted, "_When innocence is defiled, when understanding comes, his anger will be unleashed, his power released... His anger is the key... _In other words, it made him angry enough that he unleashed wild magic that destroyed Voldemort. His body looked burnt, though the others around were just dead. They appeared to have simply collapsed where they stood. Not one had their wand drawn, or had moved from the ceremonial position."

"So it happened during..."

"It appears so."

"And now he's being punished!"

"No-one wants to punish him. The measures that have been taken are for his protection, and for the protection of our world. And it's far better that we try and look after him here, than have him confined at St. Mungo's, or even Azkaban, if he can't be controlled."

Charlie was horrified, "Is Azkaban a threat?"

"If he'd killed the headmaster with his magic, instead of attacking with fists, he could have been sentenced to Azkaban."

Charlie said something else, but Jeremy didn't answer, watching as Harry walked closer to the boundary wall, and then extended a hand. They were silent, as Harry started following the wall, every now and then trying it again, then stopping and regarding the main gate, closed, and manned by two security guards.

Jeremy finally sighed, "It's an extra ward, all around the boundary, keyed to him. It burns him if he goes too close."

"There's aerial wards as well, aren't there?"

"Of course. We can't have enemies flying in on a broomstick."

The wall followed the descent of the land into a low-lying area of scrub and small trees, the beginning of the Forbidden Forest. Kingsley went to Harry, and said, firmly, "We come back this way now, Harry. It's too rough in there."

Obediently, Harry turned and walked with him, skirting the wilder area, but he kept looking at it. It drew him. Even when it was just a blur in his eyes, it drew him. Somehow it seemed as if it might be freedom.

The guards relaxed a little, as he continued to walk back towards the castle. Ian and Bruce were simply staying close, talking about Muggle TV. Ian had it at home, but Bruce had only seen it a few times.

Quite suddenly, Harry turned and started walking directly into the Forbidden Forest. Kingsley called, forcefully, "Come back, Harry. You know you have to behave."

Harry walked a little faster, and Kingsley swore, and started striding after him. Harry touched a tree, and then stumbled into a dip in the long grass. Kingsley called again, "Harry!"

Harry turned and complained, "I need my glasses. I can't see."

Kingsley reached him, and took his arm, "You can have your glasses when you earn them by good behaviour. Not before."

Harry touched his face, and blinked. He could barely see in front of him, but the darkness of the dense trees was inviting, luring him in. Kingsley pulled gently on his arm, "Come, Harry. You can walk around, just not in the trees."

Charlie asked, hostility in his voice, "Why can't he have his glasses? How can he study?"

For the first time, Harry really looked at him, and Charlie asked suddenly, "Do you even know who we are, Harry? Can you see our faces?"

There was no answer. Harry was looking blank again, just walking alongside Kingsley. Once a little further from the trees, Kingsley freed his arm, and Charlie walked beside him. "I'm Charlie, and Ian and Bruce are on your other side. Your old friends want to be with you, but they've been told they're not allowed in case they upset you."

Without warning, Harry turned and bolted into the trees. Both Jeremy and Kingsley started running after him, Jeremy with a vicious swear word.

Ian asked, "Do you think we should help?"

Charlie said doubtfully, "It's dangerous in there, and he can't see. Maybe we should...." None of them moved.

It was a short-lived flight. Harry was fast, but all it took was a root that he didn't see, a fall, and Kingsley had him again. This time he didn't let go until they were a long way from the edge of the forest.

Charlie said scathingly, "I'm surprised you didn't curse him, Auror Shacklebolt. Stun him, maybe."

Kingsley answered patiently, "Harry is not a prisoner. We're not to use spells unless absolutely necessary."

Harry stopped, and turned around, searching. He knew where he was, near the Quidditch changing rooms. The brooms were stored there. They allowed him to check his broom, to touch it, but the magic didn't awake in his hand. The broom would not fly for him, not now. There was too much. It seemed to him that he'd lost everything, but the potion blunted the pain, and nothing showed on his face.

Kingsley and Jeremy were together in the Common Room that evening when Snape walked in. He nodded toward the door of their room, and asked, "Harry settled?"

"Asleep."

"I heard he ran."

"Briefly, we caught him."

Snape dropped his voice so the few students still scattered about didn't hear. "He's still fighting, isn't he?"

"Mostly only against the potions."

"Lessons tomorrow, so for the first few days, we'll give him straight Ricca potion. I doubt he'll cause you trouble tomorrow."

"How are we supposed to handle him being in lessons?"

"Neville Longbottom has been asked to look after him. He does all the same subjects, so let him in once Harry's dressed and has had the potion. Neville will check he has the right textbooks, notebooks, and so on."

"He can't read without his glasses."

"The Healer advises that he get back into the routine as much as possible, but maybe sit him at the back of the room. If he does no work, it doesn't matter. The teachers know to leave him alone."

Neville knocked on the door Monday morning as instructed. It was the time nominated, but it was ten minutes before Jeremy answered the door. Harry was sitting on the side of his bed, head hanging, and fiddling with one of the wrist-bands. There was a red mark on the side of his jaw that would be a bruise later on in the day. Neville shot an accusing look at the guards, and Kingsley said, "If you can get him to sit still for some anti-bruising lotion, Neville, you're welcome to apply it."

"How did it happen?"

"He has to take Calming Potion every morning. Otherwise, in his current emotional state, he'd be a danger to himself and others. It is compulsory."

Jeremy added, heavily, "We try not to hurt him, but sometimes he gets hurt anyway."

Neville slowly walked across and sat next to Harry. Quietly, he said, "It's Neville, Harry. I'm to help you during lessons."

Harry just sat there, not even changing the motion of pulling at the wrist-band. It was an action already becoming familiar to the Gryffindors. He rarely left them alone. Kingsley was looking at the timetable posted on the wall, and said, quite briskly, "Double Defence, Divination and History of Magic."

Neville stood, "I'll pack your bag for you, Harry. We'll come back at lunch to get the afternoon books." Mostly they did that. There was a short break mid-morning and mid-afternoon, but the castle was so large that if they tried to change books then, they'd arrive puffing, and probably late for the next session. The result was that their bags were always heavy, at least until they learned the charms to make them lighter.

Neville found the textbooks easily enough, arrayed on a shelf above the large desk in the sitting room. He hesitated at the assortment of scattered notebooks, but then glanced back at Harry, and realised that it was unlikely he'd be doing much note-taking in any case. He picked one up at random, and returned to Harry. "Come to breakfast now, Harry."

Without comment, Harry rose, accepted the bag, and followed Neville to the Great Hall for breakfast, Kingsley and Jeremy not far behind. Neville hid his upset. He hated seeing Harry so passive. He'd always been reserved, but he'd been someone that people noticed. He'd been a leader, now it was like he was crippled. _Lost and broken,_ Neville remembered. He hoped that he could heal.

Defence first. Harry sat at the back of the class and fiddled with the wrist-bands, while everyone else practised Defensive shields under the direction of Professor Trimble, who'd taken over the position that year. Afterwards, he said, "Well done, everybody. An essay on appropriate selection of shields, due Wednesday."

Neville left it until most had left before telling Harry they had to go to Divination now. Harry did as he said, and again he sat, his only action the interminable pulling and fiddling at the Binding Bracelets. It was beginning to bother Neville, and at last, he whispered, "Do they hurt you?"

Harry glanced at where his guards stood, back near the door of the classroom, and whispered, "Neville, take them off. Please. Cut them, or vanish them. Please!"

Neville also glanced at the guards, and suddenly Kingsley was there, right beside them, and looking forbidding. Neville asked again, "Do they hurt you?"

Harry nodded, and violently yanked at one of them.

Kingsley said sternly, "Leave them alone, Harry. And don't expect a student to be capable of removing them. The headmaster himself set the spell."

Trelawney chose that moment to interrupt, though as it was her class, she no doubt thought it her right. "Our headmaster! A wonderful man. Such an aura! It was his doing that the Dark Times are over, you know. His and mine. My Prophecy, you know...."

Kingsley said quickly, "Yes, Professor, but leave Harry alone now, if you please."

Trelawney faltered, and turned to discussion of the symbolism of the raven when seen in dreams or visions. Neville reached over, and squeezed Harry's arm, wanting to console him. Harry didn't look at him, and said nothing more.

McGonnagal listened to Neville when he said that the Bracelets were hurting Harry, and promised to speak to Snape, - maybe a painkiller along with the potion. When asked, Snape said impatiently that the Bracelets were painless, and the hurt was only in the boy's mind. A few days later, he did add a mild painkiller to the potion, and felt himself vindicated when there was no difference to Harry's behaviour.

By the end of the week, the silent figure in the back of the classrooms collected fewer stares. Few saw him as a hero - his defeat of the Dark Lord had been explained to them as an accident, merely that the risky _Rite of Cerlikh_ had backfired on the perpetrator, as Dumbledore had known it would. The position he'd been in, a boy raped...... Some openly sneered. A shame like that could never be lived down.

Neville continued to do his best for him, and Ian, Bruce and Charlie quite often kept him company. The first time that Harry noticed his guards were out of earshot, he begged Charlie to try and take away his Binding Bracelets. Charlie was startled at the sudden demand, but said, "If I do, it'll be my career down the drain. I want to be an Auror."

Harry's glance turned to his guards, Kingsley already looking suspicious, and said, vehemently, _"Fuck Aurors!"_

Charlie said steadily, "They say if you behave yourself, they'll be taken off. So just be good."

Harry shook his head, "Dumbledore sees me as a threat. I don't believe he'll take them off, ever."

Charlie said uneasily, "Of course he will. He acts for everybody's best. Always has."

Harry yanked violently at the left hand bracelet, and said nothing further.

Wednesday, and Dumbledore smiled benignly at the Mind Healer. Heather couldn't help herself and smiled back. The headmaster had been her hero for a long time. He'd treated her as a little special when she'd been a student, quite often even seeing her alone in his office, encouraging her, and talking about her career choices. He said that every year, there were one or two special students who would be great in some way. He used to say that after so many years experience, he knew what to look for, to find these special ones.

Even now, he told her how much he admired her work, and asked when she would fulfil her old ambition of writing a book on illnesses of the mind. They talked for nearly fifteen minutes before Harry was even mentioned, but then Dumbledore gently asked how his poor, troubled boy was.

"Oh, yes, Harry." Heather took a moment to collect her thoughts, and finally said, "I think it would be better if we tried him without potions. He's getting himself hurt. Kingsley said it took almost a quarter of an hour last night, plus two spilt doses before they managed to force it into him."

"You think he'd be calm enough without? Obedient enough?"

"I think it's worth a try. We could give him his glasses back, so he can participate in class, and forgo the potions. What do you think?"

Dumbledore sighed, and said, "My poor Harry. I love him like a grandson, you know." Only Dumbledore knew that Harry literally _was_ his grandson. Harry's mother had been a result of rape. The 'Muggle-lover' liked to keep track of his illegitimate children.

Heather said, "I've made no progress with him. Almost the only time he's even talked to me was when he pleaded to be allowed to go, and promised he'd never do anything to betray the magical world."

Dumbledore said gently, "You do know we cannot risk that."

Heather sighed, "I know. But surely we could let him have his glasses, and try him without the potions. He's not been violent."

Dumbledore fingered his face, where yellow traces still showed, and Heather added, "Well, only that incident."

At Dumbledore's impassive look, she said, almost pleading, "I'm not suggesting we release him from the Binding Bracelets, just give him less reason to hate us."

Dumbledore made up his mind, "Harry Potter is just fifteen. He has to accept a little discipline, accept that adults know best." He saw the beginning disagreement on Heather's face, and raised a hand, stilling her objections. He rose, and started slowly pacing, slipping his hands into his sleeves, as he calmly spoke of Harry's habitual disregard for the rules and that learning to accept authority was even more essential for Harry than for other wizards, with less inherent power.

When he turned towards her, the magic swirled in the room, and Heather found herself agreeing with him. Harry would inevitably give up fighting the necessary potions, and he would have his glasses back when he did.

Snape and McGonnagal were waiting for the Mind Healer later that day, when the Aurors escorted Harry out of the office she was using. It had been another session of silence. Once Harry was out of earshot, McGonnagal asked, "Well?"

"I've consulted with the headmaster, and we agree that the current regime is to continue."

Snape sneered, "Your professional opinion, or that Dumbledore bears a grudge for a few well deserved punches?"

Heather was indignant, "Albus Dumbledore is above petty revenge, Severus."

"Are you aware of the rumours that he uses Mind-Magic to elicit agreement?"

"Nonsense! Albus would never consider such a low act!"

McGonnagal asked, in a carefully dispassionate tone, "Did he at any time, talk to you with his hands hidden in his sleeves?"

Heather snapped, "We were sitting down, and I resent the slur on my professional judgement." She looked coldly at the two, and said, "I have a report to write, so if you'll excuse me..." The teachers glanced at each other, and left.

McGonnagal said, "My office?"

Snape nodded, and followed her, his cape swirling behind him. He was well aware that the students felt the show as ominous. He liked it that way.

Once in the office, McGonnagal sealed the door, and added a Silencing Charm. There were too many occasions when Dumbledore knew things he wasn't supposed to know, and Snape and McGonnagal were discussing something like mutiny. McGonnagal said, "You know that Harry's never been aggressive. The fights he's been in are always started by Malfoy or his goons."

Snape nodded, "I know that, Minerva."

With an abrupt change of topic, McGonnagal asked, "How are they, anyway?"

"Seventeen of my House have lost their fathers, three their mothers, and more have lost close relatives. There is not as much grieving as one would expect. I've pointed out that a rule of terror is worse than the current rule of incompetence and minor corruption."

"A cynical view."

"Some of your Gryffindors lost family as well, of course."

McGonnagal admitted, "One of the fourth year girls had a go at Harry. She lost a brother and two uncles."

"How did he react?"

"The guards were not sure whether he even noticed."

Snape shook his head, "I used to loathe him for his arrogance, but he's had that beaten out of him. He looks defeated."

"He'd be better if he could have his glasses back. Hermione told me that he can barely see without them."

"Beard the old lion in his den? Insist that he gets his glasses back, even if he still has to take his potions?"

"Tomorrow, maybe. I'm planning on being there when they make him take it."

"May I join you, Minerva?"

"Certainly. We need to know just how badly he's been taking the rules laid down for him."

Harry looked around in cornered panic when Snape and McGonnagal entered the room. He was ready for bed, wearing pyjamas. He knew he could not evade the two big Aurors, and even if he did, the door was sealed with a spell. He was trapped, but still, he didn't want the teachers to see him struggle. He was already trembling violently. He could sense Snape's assessing eyes on him, but was watching the Aurors, waiting for their first move.

Professor McGonnagal said sternly, "Harry, I want you to take the potion now. It is harmless. It will help you sleep."

Harry didn't answer, and McGonnagal said to Kingsley, "Give me the potion."

Harry's attention switched to McGonnagal. She adopted a soothing tone, "Harry, you know you can trust me. I have never hurt you."

Harry's eyes were on the phial of potion, and he backed up a step. He was very tense.

Fearlessly, McGonnagal approached him, and said sternly, "There is no choice. You must do as I say."

Harry backed against the wall, and when there was no more space to retreat, abruptly swiped the potion from her hand onto the floor. The glass phial didn't break, but only because the guards had begun to put unbreakable charms on them.

Snape thundered, "Potter, behave yourself!"

Harry stared at McGonnagal, and for a moment, she expected an apology and obedience. When it didn't come, she nodded at the Aurors, "Just do as usual."

Harry was panting, ready to run, ready to fight. Kingsley was the first casualty, as Harry darted past, tripped him, and the big Auror crashed into the wall. The phial of potion was dropped. Kingsley swore. There was the usual struggle then, ending, as it always did, in one of the big men holding Harry helpless, and the other ruthlessly pouring the dose down his throat. He inhaled some that time, and was still coughing now and then as he sank to his knees, battling the overwhelming urge to sleep.

Once down and quiet, Kingsley picked him up and placed him on the bed. Jeremy brought in the anti-bruising lotion, and tended to a nasty bruise on his ribs and a lesser mark on his jaw. McGonnagal had been quite shocked, and now asked, "How often does he have bruises that need treating?"

"More often than not. But he won't allow us to treat them, only when he's asleep."

"Has he ever _not _fought?"

"He always fights. He's afraid of the potions."

"I didn't know anything about it, you know. Only that he'd been poisoned."

Snape commented, "He's thinner than he was."

"He scarcely eats."

"Do you think you could handle him without the potions?"

"I think it would be a lot easier without the potions."

The following morning, the two teachers spoke to Dumbledore, the discussion beginning to be heated, until Dumbledore reminded Snape that without his protection, he could still be sentenced for his crimes as a Death Eater. McGonnagal glanced at Snape, and warned, "You have nothing to threaten me with, Albus."

"Only to lose your position, Minerva."

"I _insist_ that he be at least allowed his glasses!"

Dumbledore said, exasperated, "His glasses then."

Snape asked, "The potions?"

"Essential. However, as you have moral objections, we'll source them from St. Mungo's from now on."

"And have the whole world believing he's lost his sanity?"

Dumbledore shrugged indifferently, but then made an attempt to retrieve his position, "My poor, poor Harry. I only do what I must, for his sake, and for ours."

McGonnagal snorted, and Snape said coldly, "I will continue to supply the potions, and I will do it as the Healer requests, just as long as you don't require him to be comatose."

Dumbledore projected sincerity, "I want Harry to recover, Severus. I don't like seeing him like this any more than you do."

Snape merely looked a little more saturnine than usual.

At lunch-time, Professor McGonnagal watched as Harry poked at the food on his plate, then put down his utensils and just waited. Close by, Kingsley and Jeremy were eating. They were big men, and enjoying the Hogwarts food. They'd relaxed a little, and no longer ensured that at least one was always ready for instant action. For the past ten days, and with the exception of potion time, Harry had been perfectly obedient.

Hermione and Ron were not far away. They hadn't given up on their old friend, and hoped to be allowed to have a chance to be with him again soon. Ron's old jealousy had gone. He couldn't be jealous of his position now. Neville sat next to him, Dean and Seamus across the table, and Charlie and his mates not far away. Harry was surrounded by friends, but didn't believe it. If they were friends, they would try and help him. They were wizards, weren't they? And there were a lot more of them than his two guards. Just stun the guards, and one of the older ones could apparate him away. He could cope from there, even if they couldn't unbind his magic. Harry sat, tugging at the wrist-bands, hating everyone.

Professor McGonnagal glanced at Snape, and asked, "Do you think he'll thank us?"

"I doubt it."

Snape was right. Harry accepted the glasses, inspected them, and asked, "Where are the ones the Muggles gave me? They were better."

McGonnagal was a little taken aback, though at least he'd spoken. It was a rare occurrence these days. She said, quite sternly, "I expect more attention in class now, Mr. Potter."

Harry put on his glasses, and looked around. Hermione beamed, and said, "That's better, Harry. You look more like yourself."

Charlie asked curiously, "Why didn't you ever have your eyes fixed? Mine were fixed when I was about five."

Harry took off his glasses, and put them aside. Ron said suddenly, "I know why they were not fixed. The same reason he had to live with relatives who hate him. No grown-up ever cared enough."

McGonnagal said stiffly, "I'll talk to Madam Pomfrey about it."

Ron said, "We had to rescue him after first year, did you know? They had bars on his window, and they weren't feeding him. I told the headmaster, and he said he'd have a word with them. I bet he didn't though."

McGonnagal asked, "Harry? Is this true?"

Harry abruptly stood and started striding out, glasses in his hand, but his bag left. The guards were taken by surprise, and were left behind. Out the door, and he started running. The swearing guards were further delayed by school bags that were suddenly underfoot, making them trip. By the time they emerged from the Great Hall, Harry was out of sight.

In an ancient, disused bathroom, Harry hissed again at a tap, "Open!"

The ghost asked, curiously, "What's the matter with you, Harry? You're not the same."

Harry ignored her, hissing again and again at the opening to the Chamber of Secrets. He'd gone there several times the previous year, when he'd needed to get away from the foolish adulation of infatuated girls. Nobody could find him down there. There were steps down to the Chamber now. He'd mastered conjuring in the middle of last year, though it was not taught until seventh year. But now his magic was gone, and the entrance would not open for him, parseltongue or not.

When he was found, he was just sitting against the wall, the sad ghost of a murdered girl sitting next to him. His glasses were clutched in his hand. His face was streaked with tears.

He'd missed Potions, and now he had two free periods, during which the Fifth years were supposed to be studying. Kingsley asked him, "Where do you want to go, Harry?"

Harry pushed himself off the floor of the bathroom, washed his face, and headed towards the Owlery to see Hedwig. She never brought him any mail, not even the answer from Gringotts, which should surely have arrived long ago. The library afterwards, searching the shelves for information about methods of Binding magic. He rather thought he might need the restricted section.

He did a lot of reading in the next few days, and for the first time, noticed that quite often, he had knowledge that he shouldn't have had. Knowledge that Voldemort had had. Harry felt himself surrounded by enemies. He needed every weapon he could get if he was to eventually free himself. Instead of shunning what he'd gained from Voldemort, as he might have done once, he welcomed it, explored it. There were memories of awful things, but he wasn't ready to look at that yet. Maybe he never would be. But the pure knowledge.... Voldemort had done a lot of travelling and learning in his younger years, before the megolomania had taken him over.

Thursday afternoon again, five weeks since the death of Voldemort, a week after he'd been given his old glasses. The guards had taken them away while he slept the first night, with the intention of returning them only once he had his potion. He'd hammered at their door before dawn, demanding them, and when they were not supplied, had fought them viciously, not waiting for potion-time. They hadn't taken his glasses again, though no effort had been made to retrieve his other glasses, and there had been no talk of having his eyes fixed.

It was a double period of Potions, and Snape said, "Pair up. Potter, time you actually did some work. You're with Malfoy. Granger, with Longbottom, so _try_ and prevent disasters."

Without comment, Draco set up his cauldron on the desk that Harry was sitting at. He'd agreed to do this beforehand, with instructions to give Harry simple jobs to complete, such as the crushing of lace-wing beetles, and the slicing of the tough Glieb Root. Snape thought that Harry had to start participating in classes, and the potion he'd taken that morning had been more potent than usual.

Snape listed the ingredients on the board, and asked, "Who can tell me what the potion is?"

Zabini answered, "It's a variety of calming potion."

Snape nodded, "Called the Ricca Potion, sometimes the Godric Gryffindor Potion, after its inventor. Now tell me its historic use."

Zabini's answer was quick, "Taming wild-caught Muggle slaves."

Snape nodded, "Not that we'd dream of doing anything that uncivilised these days."

Lavender Brown was puzzled, "Why would wizards bother with Muggle slaves? House Elves are far more efficient. Even wizard servants would be better."

Snape drawled, "One of the less savoury aspects of our history, Miss Brown, is our casual use of Muggles. Young girls and boys were commonly taken for use as sex slaves."

Hermione said, shocked, "I've never read that!"

Snape was scathing, "Surely you realise that history books are selective, Miss Granger."

Hermione sat, stunned into silence. She'd always put such faith in books.

Snape said briskly, "Collect your ingredients, and make your preparations."

Harry regarded the cauldron in front of him, and opened the textbook, brousing without concentrating. Muggles for sex slaves, and the knowledge came seeping into his head. It was not only a thing of the past.

Draco dumped a pile of roots in front of him, "Dice these, Potter. Nice even pieces."

Harry obediently looked in his bag for his knife. Draco nodded in satisfaction. Snape was right. The Ricca potion was very effective. Harry said, "I need to borrow your knife. They took mine, I think."

Draco hesitated, glanced at Snape, and then handed it over. It was a special knife, silver, and with charms that made it cut more easily than any blade should be able to, no matter how sharp.

An hour later, Draco sniffed the completed potion, and studied the colour. It was exactly as the description said it should be. He started cleaning up, putting away the things he'd used. His knife was missing, and he looked questioningly at Harry, who looked back, expressionless. Draco finally said, very quietly, "If you kill the guards, they'll send you to Azkaban."

Harry looked away, and there was no more said.

Snape swept up and down the rows, inspecting the results, and finally saying, "Malfoy, Zabini and Granger, leave your cauldrons. Ten points each for your houses. Everyone else, a labelled sample on my desk, and clean up."

Draco said, "Good enough for use, I guess."

Draco caught up with Harry in the library, quietly sliding into the seat beside him. Kingsley frowned, and watched closely. Draco glanced at him, and whispered, "Are you going to return my knife?"

Harry whispered back, "Ask your father for another one. I'm sure he can afford it."

Draco was startled, "You know he's dead. You killed him."

Harry was silent for a moment, before saying, "I didn't look under masks. I might have done."

"Do you know how many died?"

"I didn't count."

"Three hundred and seventeen dead, including ones whose marks were not obvious, eight brain damaged, and seventeen known who were knocked unconscious, but recovered. There could easily be more of those."

"Are you joking?"

"That's the official count. It was in the paper last week."

"Dumbledore got what he wanted, then."

"Yes."

Kingsley came closer, hovering. Draco said airily, "If I can help, just let me know."

Not trying to keep Kingsley from hearing, Harry asked, "Was Snape hit?"

"Knocked unconscious for three days."

"Anyone else from Hogwarts?"

Kingsley said severely, "That's enough, Mr. Malfoy. No-one's to upset Harry."

Harry glanced at him, "Is it true, Kingsley? Over three hundred dead Death Eaters?"

Kingsley confirmed, "It's true."

Draco asked, "Did anyone tell you the Prophecy, Harry? Just why you were set up?"

"No."

Draco quoted, "_Victory for the Side of Light, Victory before the leaves fall. _And then something about a sacrifice. And then it says _when innocence is defiled_, - that means when you get raped, _ his anger will be unleashed, his power released...... _ And that's when it's presumed you killed the Dark Lord, and the others died as a consequence of his death. It was all in the paper weeks ago, and that Dumbledore and Snape tricked the Dark Lord into believing that the Rite of Cerlikh would give him victory."

"The Rite of Cerlikh?"

"A ceremonial rape, in which the rapist steals the magic of the victim. But it didn't work."

"I've never heard of it."

"You didn't agree then?"

Harry pulled at the Binding Bracelets, and then looked fully at Kingsley, "The Ministry owes me their victory, Kingsley. Dumbledore owes me his victory, and you help him keep me in constant pain." He thrust his wrists in the face of the Auror, and demanded, "Take them off, Kingsley! You're an Auror! Why are you condoning a crime?"

Draco watched, a slight smile on his face. He didn't like seeing his old enemy with his spirit gone, and maybe the Ricca potion wasn't working as well as it should be after all.

Kingsley stood back, his face impassive, "I obey orders. You are not to be allowed to endanger us."

Harry glared at him, and for just a moment, a breeze drifted through the library. But it was feeble, died away quickly, and no-one noticed. The Aurors stepped back, barring the exits.

Draco Malfoy strolled away, satisfied that he'd stirred something up. Probably the Aurors would check Harry's bag while he slept, and take the knife. The Malfoy crest was on it. No doubt he'd get it back.

Harry sat still, as the familiar rage swept through him. He was trembling a little. Jeremy shook his head at Neville who'd come looking for him. Neville looked past at him where Harry sat, white faced, thin-lipped. Neville retreated.

No-one was too close, and the table concealed his actions. After a time, when the trembling died down, Harry slipped out the knife, and started trying to cut through the wrist-bands. The charmed silver knife didn't make even a mark. When someone came near, the knife was slipped out of sight. He tried again several times that day, once even running the blade very lightly over his wrist. If he cut off his hand, he could slip one bracelet off. He sighed, and put the knife away. The cost was too high, and it might not work. His other wrist would still wear the torturing device. It seemed to him that the pain was becoming worse every day.

By morning, the knife was in the hands of Kingsley, and would be returned to Draco even before breakfast.

***chapter end***


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

**

_**Chapter 5**__**:**_

Friday, when Draco tried to speak to Harry, he turned dazed, uncomprehending eyes toward him, and not long later, Draco saw him put his head down on his book, and sleep through most of the double period of Defence. Trimble ignored him.

Dumbledore smiled benignly at Fudge, "Of course the boy deserves some credit. But an Order of Merlin?"

Fudge kept his nerve. He wasn't accustomed to going against Dumbledore, even now he knew where part of his influence had come from. He was glad he had Amelia and McKenzie beside him. Amelia said quietly, "The people insist. The Ministry insists. It is after all, the least we can do. He was led out as a sacrifice, without his wand, and defeated him."

Dumbledore turned his insincere smile to her, "The Rite backfired, just as the Prophecy indicated. Potter did nothing."

McKenzie said, "The man was blasted off, burnt. I think it was more than the Cerlikh Spell backfiring. And anyway, didn't it say something about his anger awakening, his power released? He was responsible for killing Voldemort, and may have been responsible for killing the Death Eaters around him, though whether he was responsible for the deaths further afield, I'll guess we'll never know."

Dumbledore acknowledged defeat, "An Order of Merlin for him then. Not at the same ceremony as mine. It would upset him, I feel."

"At the same ceremony as yours, with exactly the same honour shown him. Many feel that he should be the only recipient. What you did, Albus... It hasn't gone down well in certain quarters."

Amelia said softly, _"Shame for the Side of Light..... Shame! The innocent child lost and broken.... _Everything possible is to be done to heal him, Headmaster. It was a dreadful thing you did. If you hadn't been promised, you would never see your own medal!"

Dumbledore rose with dignity, "If that's the way you feel, Amelia. I would only remind you of all the suffering I prevented by ending the war almost before it began."

Fudge said firmly, "Tomorrow evening then, Albus. Arrange a special feast, and invite the boy's godfather, anyone else whom he might like there."

"Of course. I only hope the poor boy doesn't go berserk, and have to be carted off to St. Mungo's."

McKenzie warned, "If he is provoked, or if anything happens to him, there will be a major investigation."

Harry fought even more desperately than usual that night. His mind was still in the fog that had held him all day, but he knew the significance of the phial that Kingsley held. His reactions were slower than normal, and it was hard to see, even with his glasses. There were no spilled potions that evening.

Saturday, and Harry wandered outside in the fine Autumn weather, but then curled up under a tree, and slept. Charlie regarded him with consternation, and asked, "Just how heavily is he drugged, Kingsley?"

"We give him the potions ordered by the Healer."

"Senior students are told to wear dress robes tonight."

Kingsley nodded, "Harry's achievement is to be recognised, so it's vital that he behave himself."

"It appears that he won't have any choice in the matter!"

"An Auror is sworn to obey orders, Mr. Greaves, even if he does not necessarily agree with them."

Charlie looked at the sleeping boy, and then strode away in disgust. He was not the only one, and Professor McGonnagal had been the recipient of more than one angry tirade.

Towards lunch, Kingsley gently called to Harry, "Wake up, Harry. You have a visitor."

Slowly, Harry sat up, looking around in confusion. Sirius dropped to one knee beside him, and said cheerfully, "Hello, Harry. Wake up. Your own best godfather has come to visit."

Harry stood, shaking his head, and looking around. He was outside, he didn't know why. Sirius said, "I'm free now, Harry, thanks to you and Dumbledore. It was great that you both did what you did."

Harry's eyes fixed on him for a moment, but then he turned and started walking away. Sirius took a stride after him, and grabbed his arm, "It's _Sirius,_ Harry. I'm like your father. I love you. And now I'm free, I'll be able to look after you."

Harry pulled his arm away, but staggered. Sirius looked at him, bewildered, "Don't you _want _to come live with me? The Dursleys hate you, you told me that! They call you a freak, and don't give you enough to eat. But now you've done that little thing for me, I can look after you."

Harry looked at him, took off his glasses, and turned away again, "I don't want you. Go away."

Sirius took a step after him, as if to detain him, but Kingsley blocked him. Sirius retreated to Harry's other visitors, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Snape and Dumbledore stood with them. Sirius said blankly, "He told me to go away."

Mrs. Weasley asked, "Will I try? He's like a son to me."

Snape sneered, "Like a son? Would you have so happily sacrificed one of your own sons?"

"You were helping!"

"_I_ never pretended to care for him."

Arthur Weasley helped his wife, "It was for the greater good. The headmaster said."

Dumbledore switched his glare from Snape, readjusted his best benign look, and assured them, "You did the right thing, all of you. And Molly dear, you still have six sons and a daughter. How many would have survived a full scale war?"

"But Harry!"

"He's still sulking, that's all."

Snape said snidely, "In any case, he's expendable now, isn't he?"

Mrs. Weasley objected, "He's important to us! Ron's his best friend. And Ginny! He helped Ginny escape You-Know-Who."

Dumbledore asserted, "He's important to all of us. We're doing all we can to help him accept the reality of his ordeal, and move on."

Sirius said, "It wasn't much, after all. Just a little pain, maybe! I endured tortures for years."

Dumbledore assured him, "Only a very strong man can endure Azkaban without losing grip on his sanity."

Sirius laughed, a touch of hysteria in his voice, "Harry owed it to me! It was his fault, after all."

Snape drawled, "And just exactly how do you make that out? He was a baby when you let your temper get the better of your judgement."

Sirius looked a touch confused for a moment, then muttered again, "It was his fault. He owed it to me."

Arthur Weasley said, "Let Molly try, Albus. He needs something like a mother."

Sirius looked balefully at Snape, and murmured, "Snivellus!" Snape ignored him.

Harry was still walking away, in the direction of the Forbidden Forest, until Jeremy put a hand on his arm, and said softly, "You can't go there, Harry. You have to turn back now."

Harry said quietly, longingly, "It's dark in there."

Jeremy's voice was firm, "Come back this way."

Harry submitted. His glasses were still in his hand. They didn't seem to be helping him see that day.

Dumbledore walked with Molly Weasley when she approached Harry, but then stood back, listening. Molly Weasley tried, "Harry, we love you. We just want to be here for you tonight." Harry took not the slightest notice. Molly glanced at Dumbledore for reassurance, and when he nodded, went to Harry, pulling him close, embracing him. Harry jerked, raising an arm as if to strike, but then just stood still, enduring.

Molly gave up when he remained tense, and said quietly, "No matter what, I will consider you a part of my family. Do you realise that you saved lives with what you did. Charlie, Bill and Arthur, they were all prepared to fight him. I could have lost them. If it had gone on long enough, it would have been Fred and George. Ron. Your best friend. He might have been lost. You saved lives, Harry, including those of my sons. I would do anything for you."

Harry looked away, back in the direction of the dark trees. Mrs. Weasley wouldn't help him. Nobody would help him.

Dumbledore watched closely, and when Molly gave up and left him alone, beckoned Kingsley closer. "Will he behave tonight?"

Kingsley was honest, "I don't know."

"After his little exhibition on Thursday, the potions are supposed to be stronger."

"Any stronger, and he won't be capable of walking."

"They wear off during the day, don't they?"

"They're long-lasting, but do seem more effective in the morning."

Dumbledore decided to speak to the Healer.

Healer Clitheroe asked, astonished, "Pure Compliance potion, Albus? Are you sure?"

"It's for his own benefit. There will be half the Wizemgamot there tonight, the Minister, other influential people. If he's seen to be unstable, the repercussions for him could be major."

"For his own benefit." Heather sighed, "An hour before dinner, then. I'll get it to you."

Dumbledore was relieved. He did not want the boy to make a scene when he was awarded his second Order of Merlin. He didn't think that anyone had ever had more than one Order of Merlin, First Class. The highest honour given. He'd need to update his autobiography.

On his leisurely way back to his office, Dumbledore caught sight of a young boy, a Hufflepuff. He had tousled black hair, was slightly built, and looked a little like Harry Potter. To his disappointment, when the spell was cast, there were streaks of pink, and Dumbledore was yearning for a boy who glowed pure white. He felt he deserved a treat, - tonight, when his achievement was to be publicly recognised. He told Winden to forget about the spell that had made him glow, commended him on his schoolwork, and sent him off.

Another black-haired boy caught Dumbledore's eye, but then he looked at his companion, and smiled. The Chief Auror had displeased him. To have his son would be revenge, all the sweeter that the boy would never remember, and his father would never know. Brown-haired and freckled, but Tony McKenzie was not unattractive, and he glowed white when the spell was cast. Very satisfactory. Dumbledore murmured _Imperio_, and issued his instructions. The twelve-year-old would wake at midnight, and make his way to the headmaster's office. Meantime, he would only remember that the headmaster had spoken of a misdemeanour he'd heard about.

Dumbledore's monetary reward had already been paid, very quietly, and it pleased him to show Snape the dress robes he had for Harry. The expensive robes had only cost a small percentage of the total amount made over to Dumbledore. "I paid for them myself, you know. Madam Malkin already had the measurements, if you remember."

"The boy's thinner now than he was when in the care of his disgusting relatives. The robes will be too big."

Dumbledore shrugged. He'd make sure that Amelia Bones was informed of his generosity. Maybe it would help moderate her views. She still refused to believe that the sacrifice of the boy was justified, and was influencing others.

Snape asked, "Why don't you give them to him yourself, then? See if he's appreciative."

"He bears a grudge still. I don't want another black eye if it can be avoided."

"Surprising he doesn't seem to bear a grudge against me, Albus. After all, I helped."

Harry wasn't expecting anything unusual when the guards told him to return to his room an hour before dinner. He'd already forgotten that there had been any visitors to disturb him, and the guards had ensured that none of the reporters or photographers had a chance to get near him. He was still in a dazed, uncomprehending state, and the guards decided to take advantage to deliver the extra dose of potion. But Harry was quick to realise, and he fought violently, screaming in rage. The guards were both hurt before the dose of Compliance Potion was down his throat. Harry sank to his knees on the floor, hysterical with his shock and grief. It was getting worse and worse, and the pain from his wrists was almost unbearable. He yanked at one of the wrist-bands, still sobbing.

After five minutes, Jeremy suggested, "An extra Calming Potion?" They had a few available, to use if they deemed necessary. Kingsley agreed, and went to fetch a potion that would induce calm. A very firm order to Harry, and it was taken with scarcely a fight this time. Pure Compliance potion tamed the most violent mental patients, but its use was strictly limited, as it took away all free will. Harry's tears died away, and his eyes dulled further. Once the guards deemed it to be fully effective, he was told to shower, but not to dress. Totally obedient, the boy did as he was told, while the guards turned to treating their own bruises, with the rueful remark that he was getting to be far too good a fist fighter.

For a change, Harry's bruises were treated while he was conscious and reasonably cooperative, if clumsy. He asked no questions, submitting as his hair was brushed, and the guards helped him dress in the new robes, - an under-robe of bottle green, with pale blue and silver embroidery, the over-robe with its deep collar and dangling sleeves, of a slighter deeper tone.

There were a few students still in the Common Room when he emerged, including Hermione and Ron. Hermione said, "Harry, you look beautiful!"

Harry didn't acknowledge the comment. Objectively, he was not beautiful. His hair was no longer glossy, and his face was too thin. Most of all, the eyes were dull, and usually turned downward. He was not the boy he'd been.

Neville asked, "Where are his glasses?"

Kingsley said briskly, "He's carrying them."

"Do you want me next to him?"

"He sits at a separate table tonight. Professor McGonnagal will be next to him, and myself. Jeremy will take station at the door."

Charlie shook his head, "I can't see him running today. It's like he doesn't even know what's happening."

Hermione took a step forward, and spoke very clearly, "Harry? It's me, Hermione. I'm so terribly, terribly sorry for what we did. We were tricked, Ron and I. Please forgive us."

Jeremy said briskly, "Not tonight, Hermione. Try again in a few days, maybe."

Hermione said sadly, "I'm so sorry, Harry."

Minerva McGonnagal entered then, hurried the remaining students, sent Neville to put on an unsoiled cape, inspected Harry, and asked, "Kingsley?"

"All ready, exactly as the headmaster ordered."

"Good." She held out an arm, "You're to hold my arm, Harry. Walk with me. Do exactly as I say."

Harry stumbled again, as he went to her, but there was no hint of revolt. McGonnagal patted his arm, "It'll all seem better soon, Harry. You'll see."

The Great Hall had been rearranged. The seldom used Mezzanine Floor had been prepared, and all younger students were seated there. The four usual House Tables had been shortened to take up only half the floor space, and there were nicely decorated tables for the important guests and most of the staff. Instead of the wooden benches used by the students, there were comfortable chairs. Harry was steered to a table for twelve. The other guests already seated included Dolores Umbridge, who held an important position in the Ministry, and Amelia Bones and her husband. There were also Sirius, Molly and Arthur Weasley with their son, Percy, who worked as one of Fudge's assistants. Under instruction, Harry shook hands when he was introduced to those who hadn't met him, but otherwise sat silent, not noticing the curious or anxious looks. The miserable child who'd somehow defeated the Dark Lord. It didn't seem possible.

Albus Dumbledore sat in his usual place, in the centre of the Head Table. Cornelius Fudge and his mousy wife were next to him. On his other side, there was an ancient wizard venerated for past wisdom, and his son, Tonius Carlyle, rich and influential. There were the Ministers for Magic of France and Germany. It was a gathering of the most important wizards and witches of Great Britain and their near neighbours, all of them in the elaborate dress robes that were expected at a formal occasion.

It was not as Dumbledore had wanted. If he'd had his way, ordinary students would not have been in attendance, and the ceremony would have been held in the Grand Hall of the Ministry. This may have been second best, but Dumbledore was happy, and tonight, young Tony McKenzie's glow would change from white to red. His gaze settled on Vance McKenzie, but the malice in them was missed. His bright blue eyes twinkled. People warmed to him. He was a great man. He knew it, most others knew it, and the accusations of Mind-Magic were quickly being forgotten.

Once everyone was seated, and the initial buzz of introductions quieted, Dumbledore rose, and welcomed everyone to the celebration feast and dance. He beamed around, "You all know why we are here. A war was beginning. We expected the second war to be even worse than the First War against the Dark Lord. From the moment of Lord Voldemort's full resurrection, he acted quickly and effectively. New recruits flocked to him, believing his false promises of riches and power. The Dementors joined him and Azkaban was no longer secure. There were murders and disappearances. Muggles were slaughtered, for fun! And again, we saw the Dark Mark hideous in the sky. Now he's gone, and we feast. Once we've eaten, Minister Fudge has a few words to say."

A fancy entree appeared in front of each person, and carafes of wine, and other drinks were suddenly there on the table. Without comment, Kingsley poured Harry a non-alcoholic beveridge, though at least a little more fancy than the ubiquitous pumpkin juice, and said, "Eat your meal, Harry."

Harry looked at it, confused, put on his glasses and took a couple of bites before forgetting what he was doing again, and just sitting.

Dolores Umbridge asked sweetly, "You're not hungry, Harry? You're our hero, you know." When there was no answer, she turned to her neighbour, and said, "Such a sweet boy. A shame his mind has been affected."

Amelia opened her mouth to object, but then closed it again. The boy was so lifeless. It appeared that Dolores was perfectly correct. McGonnagal said quickly, "Harry is still recovering, that's all. And he's not used to such a crowd of noisy people."

Dolores tittered, "Oh, I didn't mean to _criticise_ the poor boy, Minerva. We all know what he went through." She glanced at Harry, and added, spitefully, "_Exactly_ what he went through."

Her efforts were wasted. To Harry she was just a part of the noise in the background. The only thing that penetrated his daze were the occasional clear instructions to eat something. And even then, he'd quickly forget.

Sirius, seated on the opposite side of the table, was the life of the party. An attractive young secretary sat next to him, and he exerted his charm as he boasted about how his brave godson had been only too happy to trick Voldemort. "I knew it would be all right, of course. Harry's a very powerful wizard. Takes after me, you know!"

"I thought you were just his godfather, how could he take after you?"

"His father and I were like brothers. James Potter and Sirius Black. We were a pair, both very powerful. He takes after me."

Stacey smiled on him, "You're powerful?"

"Of course. Don't you know my story? I'm a hero, you know." Sirius's face was a little gaunt, lined with the marks of his ordeal, but he'd once been extremely handsome, he'd once been known for his success with women, and he saw not the slightest reason why he should not be as successful again now he was free. This was the first large occasion he'd been to since he'd been declared innocent. He was almost bouncing in his seat with excitement.

Molly Weasley was quiet, her eyes continually drawn to the empty look on Harry's face. Percy and Umbridge spoke of the new area of land owned by the Ministry, - the estate that had been Voldemort's headquarters. There was wealth to share out, and Umbridge stated with satisfaction that she was in charge of the allocation of the funds. Then there were the rumours that the Dementors were gone. Left Britain? No-one knew, only that none had been seen since Voldemort's demise.

Several reporters were at the next table, listening as hard as they could, and keeping a close watch on Harry Potter, the hero who wasn't a hero. He'd been raped, lying on a shaggy white rug, and with five Death Eaters surrounding him as witnesses. Not that any lived to bear witness, but the evidence was clear. For a wizard to be raped was terrible shame, the humiliation inherent in the act not something to be forgotten. Harry would never be regarded as a great wizard, not now. The boy looked down. He'd taken off his glasses.

An array of delicious desserts appeared on the table, among them Harry's special favourite. Dobby was now Bound to Albus Dumbledore, and unable therefore to help his Harry Potter, forbidden even to visit him, but that small thing he could do. Harry didn't notice, and this time, Kingsley made no effort to make him eat. He'd taken several mouthfuls, more than usual. Maybe once this hurdle was over, the strength of the potions could be decreased, and the boy might have a chance to heal.

The time for speeches arrived, and Cornelius Fudge went to the high and impressive podium, draped with the flags of the Ministry, of Hogwarts, of the Aniragi population of Great Britain, and even the personal coats of arms of the Houses of Dumbledore and Potter. Harry didn't know he had a coat of arms, but someone had done the research.

Fudge spread his hands for quiet, and the last whispers of conversation died away. There was a long and impressive list of dignitaries to welcome by name, before he paused for effect, and then proclaimed impressively, "The greatest and most evil of wizards is dead! The dawning terror of a new war has been averted. There were thousands of dead in the first war, not counting Muggle, there would undoubtedly have been more in the second war. The Dark One wanted to take over our world, first our own country, then Europe. He had ideas of reducing the Muggle population to a mere pitiful remnant, who would serve as our slaves."

At the Slytherin Table, Pansy Parkinson hissed to Draco Malfoy, "Sounds good to me."

Draco returned, "Watch Potter. They've got him drugged to the eyeballs, and I still wouldn't put it past him to mess up the ceremony."

Fudge continued talking about the terrible war that didn't happen, and finally started his summary, "More than to anyone, this victory belongs to Albus Dumbledore." There was a mutter, possibly of disagreement, but Fudge ignored it, and nodded, "Yes, Albus Dumbledore. Could anyone else have done what he did? He took the words of a Prophecy, a Prophecy that promised victory, victory before the leaves fell, and with careful planning, he made it happen. Albus Dumbledore, hero of the Battle of Grindelwald, has defeated another powerful Dark Wizard, one more powerful than any other, one so powerful that we were afraid even to speak his name. There is more than one way to be brave, and sometimes, it takes more courage to make a difficult decision than it does to enact that decision. Our Harry, just a fifteen-year-old boy, volunteered to put himself in the way of danger, - maybe not knowing the full story, but prepared to risk his life for victory."

Sirius said, a little too loudly, "That's my Harry. Saved us all."

McGonnagal glared at him. Kingsley was watching Harry warily, ready to quell any thoughts of disobedience. With the undiluted dose of Compliance potion, there should be no need for more than a clear instruction. Harry sat quietly, a finger tracing the raised silver embossing that formed one of the runes on the left wrist-band, as if fascinated by it.

Fudge said, "I would ask the most respected Albus Dumbledore and Harry James Potter to please join me at the podium."

McGonnagal said clearly, "Stand up, Harry. I want you to walk with me." Kingsley also followed them, but then stood off to the side, trying to be inconspicuous, and failing utterly.

McGonnagal felt Harry sway slightly, and whispered, "Stand up straight now, Harry. When the Minister gives you the medal say thank you, and say that you're honoured. When he gives you the medal, say thank you."

Harry said vaguely, "Yes..."

McGonnagal crossed her fingers. She had a firm grasp of Harry's arm. Dumbledore was presented with his medal first, and gave a lengthy speech of thanks, somehow managing to appear modest at the same time as he took almost full credit for the achievement.

McGonnagal felt Harry stagger to the side, and hissed, "Stand up straight!" Harry shook his head, and tried to do as he was told. Maybe it would be easier if he put on his glasses, and he fumbled them on. There was a roaring in his head, and a multi-coloured blur in front of him. Vaguely, he looked around, those near not even registering, though he knew it was McGonnagal who held his arm.

McGonnagal said quietly, "The Minister is giving you a medal, Harry. Take it and say thank you."

Fudge prompted, "Hold out your hand, Harry. This is for you."

Harry held out his hand, and accepted the medal, squinting at it. He couldn't make it out.

McGonnagal said, "Thank the Minister, Harry. He's done you a great honour."

Harry touched over the engraved medal, with its wide, satin ribbon, gold edged. Slowly he looked up, at the Minister, then around at Dumbledore, who stood close. With a sudden cry of sheer rage, he hurled the Order of Merlin at the headmaster's face. Dumbledore stumbled back, holding the side of his face in shock. Harry pulled away from McGonnagal, and started towards the exit. Kingsley said firmly, "_Stop, _Harry," and he lost a little of his momentum. When Jeremy intercepted him, and took his arm, he stumbled to a halt.

Dumbledore said, clearly, icily, "Take him to bed please, Auror Huntington. He's obviously not fit for polite company."

Rita Skeeter called, "The Auror's to take him to bed, Albus? I would have thought one rape was enough!"

"Don't be foolish, Miss Skeeter!"

Kingsley arrived at where Harry stood with Jeremy, and took his other arm. Harry just stood, head hanging. He'd forgotten where he was, forgotten that he'd made any disturbance.

Dumbledore removed his trademark half-moon eyeglasses, noting that the frame was cracked. The medal had been thrown with force. More than natural force? Impossible. Harry's magic was Bound. With an effort, he regained normal composure, and suggested to Fudge that it might be a good time to explain the allocation of funds. Fudge nodded, his eyes still on Harry as he was led out the door. But then he started explaining that the wealth of the Dark Lord had been confiscated, and that some of it had been allocated to the school. There was to be a swimming pool, a gymnasium, and a new emphasis on physical achievement. "For too long, wizards have under-valued the benefits of exercise and strength training." A large allocation to St. Mungo's, and the transformation of Voldemort's estate to a new wizarding area, since the Muggle-repelling charms were so good. It was to be known as Albuston.

There was a growing swell of talk, which began to drown out the Minister's voice. Draco Malfoy, smugly, "I told you he might put on a scene,"

Sirius Black, to the secretary, "Just a boy, you know. I'm his guardian, so I can look after his medal for him. An Order of Merlin, First Class, and we deserve it, what we did."

Stacey Hopkirk may have been slender, blonde and attractive, but she was not stupid. She asked, with an expression simply of interest, "What exactly did _you_ do, Sirius?"

"Well, I tricked Voldemort, didn't I? Harry had been a little sick, you know. He'd forgotten that he agreed. I had to encourage him a little. If it wasn't for me, he might have tried to run away."

"I thought he was supposed to be brave."

"Yes, but he was sick. Poisoned a few days before. Hadn't even eaten for three days, someone said. Light in the head."

At the next table, Rita Skeeter listened avidly, ignoring Fudge's current topic of the prospect of a new cemetery at Voldemort's estate, and very pleased at Sirius's continued indiscretions.

Hermione said to Ron, "Do you think he'll ever recover?"

"Maybe, if someone takes off the Binding Bracelets. Neville told me he says they hurt him."

"But would he be safe? Would he lose his temper, and kill hundreds of people again?"

Ron lowered his voice, "I can't imagine how I'd feel if it was me. You're a girl, you don't know..."

Hermione reminded him tersely, "It _is_ mostly girls who get raped!"

Ron whispered, "Charlie says someone should try and take them off. Then he wouldn't be angry all the time."

Hermione whispered, very quietly, "Should we try?"

The answer was as quiet, "We'd have to work out how."

Hermione nodded, and looked back at Fudge. They should try.

In Harry's room, they had to help him prepare for bed before Kingsley held the sleeping potion to his lips. He didn't seem capable of fighting, though he did try to push it away. A second later, and he was collapsed on the floor. Jeremy picked him up, put him into the bed, and they noted the time and dosage, as they always did. Jeremy said, "It's not even eight o'clock."

"If we lock the door, and then take turns guarding from the Common Room?"

"There's some pretty women here. I wouldn't mind the chance to get to know a few."

"An hour at a time then, and I'll suggest to McKenzie that we're far past due for some time off." It had been thought that it was better for Harry if the Aurors were not changed for a time, but they'd been on for three weeks now, without a break.

Jeremy found the Great Hall looking different when he returned. The House Tables had vanished, and now there was a dance floor. On the spacious podium, a well known band was setting up. They were still giggling now and then about Harry's reaction to being given the Order of Merlin. They thought it very funny.

Stacey was still being monopolised by Sirius, but Jeremy strolled over, and said, "Stacey! Nice to see you."

Stacey smiled at him, and asked about Harry.

"Sound asleep, poor child. Kingsley's looking after him."

"Will he be punished?"

"I don't expect so. How's Anthony going in his new job?"

Sirius tried to elbow him aside, but Jeremy was much bigger and stronger than Sirius, and when Stacey suggested that Jeremy might like to dance with her, he only scowled. Rita Skeeter had been watching him, and took her opportunity. Rita was going to have a few juicy details for the Monday Daily Prophet.

Madam Pomfrey dabbed some anti-bruising lotion on Dumbledore's cheek, and said impatiently, "No, your cheek bone is _not_ broken. And personally, I think poor Harry quite justified."

Dumbledore said coldly, "_Really, _Poppy."

"And why won't you allow me to look at him? He looked really sick to me."

"Healer Clitheroe is in charge of him, you know that."

"She doesn't seem to be doing a very good job!"

"She's a highly qualified mediwizard. I'm sure she knows what she's doing!"

Madam Pomfrey sniffed, and Dumbledore decided that the school nurse was getting too big for her boots. Maybe a few gentle hints about replacing her would be in order. Not now. He made it a rule never to act when he was angry. He suddenly remembered the boy who would come calling at midnight, and felt more cheerful. He'd have a talk with Vance McKenzie, - about the weather, or something equally mundane, while he thought of young Tony. _The innocent child, shining white,_ except that this one was only twelve, and would never have the inherent power of Harry Potter. Dumbledore had no intention of ever taking the Binding Bracelets off Harry Potter. He didn't like knowing that Harry had more power than himself. And he thought to himself, complacently, that if he wasn't a _good_ man, he would arrange that he died. Not yet, but when people began to forget him. Before the Summer, so that he wouldn't have to think what to do with him. Maybe it would be for the greater good....

Hermione smiled in satisfaction when she succeeded in unlocking the door of the library. Binding Bracelets. Dark artefacts, illegal magic, or maybe she'd find something in the section on Mind Healing. Two hours later she sat back in disgust, "Nothing!"

Ron said hopefully, "Go dance? Think about it later?"

"It doesn't seem like we can do anything ourselves. I'll talk to Professor McGonnagal again, I guess."

Nearly midnight. Dumbledore excused himself, protesting that he was an old man, and needed his sleep. In a second year dormitory, in almost a trance, Tony McKenzie rose from his bed, dressed and set off for the headmaster's office, remembering to keep out of sight.

Jeremy returned to take over from Kingsley, and nodded at the door, "No problems?"

"I checked on him five minutes ago. He hasn't moved." They always checked now and then, noting the occasional nightmares. The guards took their responsibility seriously, and the notebook showed things like times they started trying to get him to take the doses of potion, times they actually succeeded, all injuries treated, and times when he was checked, usually just a quick glance into his bedroom.

It was nearly three when Kingsley returned, to find Jeremy already in bed. He made a quick check on Harry, started to note it down in the notebook, and then frowned, and had another look. A moment later, he was roughly shaking Jeremy. "He's hardly breathing! There's something wrong!"

Harry nearly died that night, Severus Snape furious about those extra potions before dinner. The boy was already over-dosed, as he'd been telling Dumbledore and the Mind Healer. Madam Pomfrey was also furious, and resolved to give Dumbledore a piece of her mind, not to mention that incompetent and useless so-called Mind Healer!

***chapter end***


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 6**__:_

Tony McKenzie woke late on Sunday morning, surprised and anxious when he discovered himself half dressed. There were vague images in his mind, but he couldn't exactly remember, and felt unhappy when he tried. He thought there had been an enormous bed, covers drawn down, where he'd sat and waited, for hours, he thought. And he thought he remembered seeing the headmaster lying on the floor, dead, open eyes staring at the ceiling. But it was like those dreams where the details fled even before they were grasped. Unhappily, Tony went for a shower. He was alone, the last one up. He didn't say anything about his strange dream, even when word spread that the headmaster had died overnight.

Vance McKenzie studied the body of Albus Dumbledore. His spectacles were on the floor, and his cheek still showed some slight bruising. The anti-bruising lotion was usually very effective, but maybe Madam Pomfrey had been a little less thorough than usual. There were no other signs of violence. There had been no signs of violence on all those dead Death Eaters, and Harry had made it very obvious that his anger at Dumbledore was still alive and well. McKenzie cast the spell that gave an approximate time of death, and then a stasis spell to prevent further deterioration. He gave instructions that the body was not to be moved, and went to see Harry.

He found Kingsley looking bleakly at Harry, who moved fretfully in the hospital bed, and then pulled feebly at one of the wrist-bands. He said, briskly, "About twelve last night, Kingsley. Could he have done anything?"

"He was asleep in bed. There was a check at twelve, and again an hour later. We didn't notice until nearly three o'clock that he was in a bad way."

"And what caused that? Could it have been because of some form of long-distance magic? Could he have tired himself out with a small murder?"

Kingsley picked up Harry's wrist, and said briefly, "He still wears the Bracelets. He cannot use magic."

Harry muttered resentfully, and tried to pull his wrist away. McKenzie studied the thin face, and asked Kingsley, "So what caused his illness?"

"He nearly died because the Healer ordered an extra potion to be delivered before dinner, - Undiluted Compliance Potion. And then when he became hysterical at being forced to take that, we gave him a Calming Potion as well. If you recall, he was staggering. Then the usual Sleeping Potion after the dinner, earlier than usual. We should have realised something was wrong when it acted so fast. Usually it takes a few minutes."

McKenzie nodded, "I'll watch him. Go and get the notebook, would you?"

Kingsley said uneasily, "He's not strong enough for an interrogation now, Sir."

"I'll wait until your return."

By the time that McKenzie had the Official Record Notebook ready, Jeremy, Kingsley and Madam Pomfrey were all there, watching him critically. Even Severus Snape, like a baleful presence in the corner. McKenzie said sternly, "Harry, you have to wake up now. I want to ask you some questions." Harry muttered something, and turned his head away. The Chief Auror tried several times, with no better response.

Snape said, "He cannot have any more potions now, but the Compliance Potion is still in his system. If you wish, I will ask the questions. My voice is familiar to him."

"Ask him what he remembers of last night."

Snape took a seat by the bed, and said firmly, "Potter, you're to do some thinking. I know it's hard. Answer me, Potter."

"Yes..."

"What happened last night, do you remember?"

Harry opened his eyes, and looked at him. Snape asked, "What happened last night?"

"Hurt."

"Who did you hurt."

"They hurt me. They want me dead."

"Who wants you dead?"

"You do. All of you."

"The headmaster?"

"Yes."

"Did you do anything to the headmaster?"

Harry spoke uncertainly, "I don't know..."

"Did you throw something at him?" There was a long silence, and Snape repeated his question.

Harry finally asked, "Were there lots of people?"

"That's right, Harry. It was a presentation ceremony. Minister Fudge gave you a medal. An Order of Merlin, in fact."

"I threw it at Dumbledore."

"Why did you throw it at Dumbledore?"

Harry rolled his head away, and complained, "It hurts."

"Is that why you threw it? Because it hurts?"

But Harry was fumbling at the bedside table, and asked, "Where are my glasses?"

Patiently, Snape put his glasses in his hand, and even helped him put them on. Harry's hands were shaking. Snape resumed his questioning, "Why did you throw the medal at the headmaster, Harry?"

Harry mumbled, "Medal," and closed his eyes. McKenzie let out a deep breath of exasperation.

Snape said, "Poppy, maybe you should show McKenzie just exactly what Harry's been reduced to, under Dumbledore's orders."

The nurse said tartly, "He's always been thin. I didn't know until recently that he was abused at his home. And now..." She was unbuttoning his pyjama jacket. Harry tried to fend her off, and Madam Pomfrey said, quite kindly, "It's only me, Harry. I want to see how thin you are." Harry stopped resisting.

McKenzie reached over, and ran a hand down ribs, ignoring his flinch. Kingsley said defensively, "We try and make him eat, but it's difficult."

Madam Pomfrey asked, "Why don't you eat, Harry?"

She asked the question a second time before Harry asked, "Madam Pomfrey?"

"Yes, dear."

"Can you take off the wrist-bands? They hurt me, all the time."

McKenzie said, "They're supposed to be painless, or only some very mild irritation."

Harry pleaded, "Madam Pomfrey? They cut me, all the time, deep inside."

"They cut you?"

"It's getting worse. They're going to kill me soon, I think."

McKenzie interrupted, "Harry Potter, did you kill Albus Dumbledore?"

"No, killed Voldemort. They're the same, y'know. But it was Voldemort. I'm sure."

"Last night. Did you do anything last night?"

"Don't think so. It was a long time ago, I think. And then he was dead, and there were Muggles, and they didn't hurt me."

McKenzie asked quietly, "What do you want, Harry?"

Harry turned to him, and held out his hands, pleading, "Take them off."

McKenzie stood, "I'll talk to you again later."

Harry closed his eyes. No-one would take them off. It didn't matter whether he did what he was told, whether he answered questions or was silent. They just liked him to be hurting. He wouldn't speak to them any more.

Later that day, when he was a little more rational, Snape explained to him that he would not be seeing Healer Clitheroe any more, and that Madam Pomfrey was in charge of his medical treatment, himself in charge of treatment overall. Snape added, "But I have to do what Chief Auror McKenzie requires. There is still the question of the headmaster's death."

Harry forgot his intention not to speak, and asked, "Dumbledore's dead?"

"He died suddenly last night. If you know anything about it, please tell me."

Harry repeated, still surprised, "He's dead!"

"Yes, Harry. He's dead."

"They're both dead, then."

Snape waited, as the boy fiddled with the Binding Bracelets, then suddenly looked up, "If he's dead, am I still a prisoner, Professor Snape?"

"Don't think of it as being a prisoner. You're just a boy and a school student who's been through a bad time. You go back to your room now, but you will not have to take potions unless you misbehave. Kingsley and Jeremy are still in charge of you." Snape paused, and then said clearly, "Listen carefully, Harry. You have to obey orders, and after a while, I think they'll agree the Binding Bracelets can come off. _Don't_ try and run away. _Don't _try and ask your fellow students to take them off. They won't be able to, and it'll get them into trouble." Harry yanked hard at one of the wrist-bands, and didn't answer.

They had him eat in his own room that evening, and when they saw him looking sleepy, asked whether he wanted to go to bed. They had to assure him again that he didn't have to take any potions before he complied. He went to sleep very quickly, and slept late again on Monday. It would take some days for the effects of the potions to wear off completely.

**_hphp_**

Defence Monday morning, and Draco Malfoy called, "Hey, Weasley, where's Potter?"

Ron demanded, "What's it to you?"

Draco shrugged, and it was Blaise Zabini who said, "Rumour has it he's had his revenge against the headmaster."

Ron replied belligerently, "I'd watch out if I were you. He doesn't like Slytherins, either."

Neville cut in, with unusual assertiveness, "Harry had nothing to do with the headmaster dying. They drugged him so much he's scarcely known what was happening these past few days, and not much more before that."

Hermione added, "And besides, he has guards, all the time."

"And Binding Bracelets!"

Hermione nodded, "The headmaster's death was just a coincidence. Harry's back in his own room, and they wouldn't have done that if they thought he'd done anything."

Professor Trimble said mildly, "That's enough, all of you. I was told that Harry had been ill and may not make it to classes today. As for our sad loss, that's quite a separate matter."

He went on to a lecture about a particular advanced shield, and Ron whispered to Hermione, "I think he did it, somehow. He hated Dumbledore, and we know he's powerful."

"Nonsense!"

"Remember his temper. He was horrible last year before the Tournament started."

"That was your fault."

"What if he blames us as well? We helped."

Hermione hushed him, and it was not until after class ended that she whispered, "Maybe it's best that his magic stay Bound, just in case."

Ron said, relieved, "Well, we couldn't have taken them off in any case."

Harry might have been officially cleared, but when the Aurors escorted Harry to Divination, Professor Trelawney gave an exaggerated start, and asked, in a stage whisper, "Is he safe, Auror Shacklebolt?"

Kingsley said impatiently, "Don't be silly, woman."

Harry shot her a glance, but said nothing, only sitting where Kingsley indicated, next to Neville. Neville said, smiling, "Hello, Harry. They said you were sick."

Harry nodded briefly, not smiling. He never smiled these days.

Neville asked, "Will I find your textbook for you, Harry?" He was already checking in Harry's bag, and even opened the book for him at the required page.

Trelawney watched them askance, and once everyone was settled, she started talking about death omens. According to her, she'd foreseen the headmaster's death, but a Seer had a responsibility not to upset people by telling of things that cannot be avoided. "Prophecy, dear children, is an Art that carries with it responsibility. A true Prophecy is one that is seen to come true, but prophecies that do not appear to come true, are not necessarily false. Only that they need to be interpreted by a qualified Seer, as I am."

Someone asked eagerly what death omens she'd seen in relation to the headmaster, and she was happy to talk about it in detail. Neville was sceptical, "Two sparrows together is not a death omen!"

Trelawney shook her head, "Most of you will never See. There are omens in everything. One only needs to know how to interpret what you see."

Harry flipped through the Divination book, and put it away, pulling out a different book, and becoming engrossed in it instead. Neville looked over at it, and raised his eyebrows. The book was an advanced text dealing with potions used for medicinal purposes. Kingsley noticed as well, and decided the behaviour should be noted. At least it meant that he was becoming more alert. He was still distressed that the boy had so nearly died.

History of Magic. Harry ignored the lecture, ignored the way that the other students looked at him, some fearful, some curious, and continued to read the book.

Lunch, and Harry tried to put up with the increasing pain from the Binding Bracelets. The cumulative effects of weeks of calming potions were wearing off, and he was beginning to feel the pain more, feel more agitated. Yet things were looking up. The potions were to cease, and Snape said that he should behave himself, and maybe the Bracelets would be removed. No-one could be trusted, and yet Snape was not one who'd acted as if he cared for him, and then hurt him. Snape had always detested him. It was not like Snape had betrayed his trust.

Transfiguration, where McGonnagal swept in briefly, instructed them to read a certain section of their texts, briskly told the prefects to keep them in order, and left again. She was very busy, trying to take over the reins of the school. She was only grateful that the Ministry had taken control of Dumbledore's funeral. He was to have a Ministerial Merlinus funeral, and was currently lying in state in the Mages' Room of the Ministry. Charms, where Professor Flitwick seemed as cheerful as he always was, apparently unmoved by the unexpected death of the headmaster.

Potions, where Snape instructed Harry to sit alone in the rear, and read. Kingsley and Jeremy stayed close, closer than normal. They were beginning to notice the frown of pain, and the way he jumped when someone dropped something.

The double period of Potions ended, and Harry waited until the rest of the students left before approaching Snape. Snape raised his eyebrows, and Harry said, "Please Sir, may I have a pass to the Restricted Section of the library?"

"Why?"

Harry held his eyes, "You owe me your freedom. You should allow me what I want."

Snape said dryly, "I hardly think you chose to kill the Dark Lord in order to free me."

"Whatever. You are free of him. A Pass is not much to ask."

"What subject?"

"A general Pass, please."

"And I suppose you want it for an indefinite duration?"

"Yes, Sir."

Snape's eyes dropped to the boy's hands. Even now he was pulling at one of the wrist-bands, though not forcefully. Without further comment, Snape sat and wrote out the requested Pass, and then asked abruptly, "Do you want a painkilling potion?"

Harry stepped away quickly, "No potions!"

Snape said patiently, "You can have it in your own possession, and take it only if the pain gets too severe."

Harry shook his head, and retreated.

Harry was hurrying. No potions. Never, ever again. He _hated_ them. He didn't have an appointment with the healer. They said it was no longer necessary, but it was more likely because she'd nearly killed him. Harry thought it was probably deliberate, because Dumbledore had wanted him dead. Miraculous good luck that the bastard had died instead of himself. He didn't feel so angry any more, the pressure inside him a little less.

The Aurors kept pace with him, not trying to tell him what to do. They were a little surprised that Snape had provided the permission slip he wanted, but it was now Snape in charge of his day-to-day care. An ex Death Eater. It seemed a little ironic. When Harry gathered a dozen books, and settled himself at a table, the guards also took a book each, and started to read, though making sure they were between the boy and the way out. It was not a demanding job mostly, but they were becoming very tired of looking after a fifteen-year-old school student.

Harry read about a particularly involved way of setting a powerful ward around a home, and shook his head. It was very confusing. He knew nothing about setting wards, and yet somewhere in his head, there was a knowledge of far more powerful ones than the one described. Dismantling wards. That might be more to the point. The wards around the external walls, that burned him when he went too near. How could he ever escape if he couldn't get through that? It was strange, as he studied, the words of the books reawakening the knowledge that he'd taken from Voldemort. There was a lot to take in, a lot to organise in his mind. Some of the new knowledge contradicted what he'd been taught. Which was right? If Dumbledore was not as Light as he was supposed to be, had Voldemort been as Dark as he was supposed to be?

He put down his book, staring in front of him, unconsciously pulling at the wrist-band again. There had been dreams he'd had. He'd seen Voldemort torture and kill. As far as he knew, Dumbledore didn't cause pain for pleasure. He looked down at the wrist-band, briefly clenching his fist. _That_ was torture! All the same, he had never seen Dumbledore gloating over the pain. More that he was indifferent. Either that, or just didn't believe it caused pain. He didn't know how many times he'd been told they did not cause pain.

Kingsley asked, "Do you want to go outside before dark, Harry?"

Harry glanced up, and nodded curtly. He needed a bit of fresh air. He should try and eat more as well, and get some exercise. He had to be strong to be able to escape. He checked out his books, and Kingsley took his bag for him, and cast a spell to lighten it.

The Forbidden Forest still lured him, but the Aurors were alert for that, and herded him away. They didn't fancy chasing him there, especially with the approaching night.

The bell rang for dinner, and again, most other students gave him a wide berth. The rumours were getting stronger. Whatever the teachers said, the students knew that Harry was a powerful wizard. The younger ones were trading stories about him killing baselisks, and driving off a hundred Dementors. Hardly any knew the facts behind the stories. Dumbledore had always said that it was best to be discreet, and for Harry, those battles had been too frightening, too real. He'd never spoken about them. They knew for sure that hundreds of Death Eaters had died, and they knew that he'd caused substantial damage to the hospital wing, even without a wand.

For Ron, it made sense. When he thought about it, there had always been indications that Harry was a lot more powerful than he liked to show. More brainy, as well. His resentment grew. That Harry had turned his back on his friendship was a bitter hurt. Ron Weasley was no longer a friend to Harry Potter.

Over the next days, as Harry remained very quiet, the trepidation died down. He made no attempt to participate in classes, whether or not magic was required, usually sitting in a corner, reading. Professor Sprout tried to be kind, and so did Professor Ironside, who was currently teaching Care of Magical Creatures. He gave them little reward. Harry knew about adults. You could never, ever trust an adult.

Hagrid returned on Thursday in time for the funeral on Saturday, but there was no talk that he'd be taking classes again.

Early Saturday morning, McMillan was at work again, modifying the large bathroom to provide a women's section. It was for Kingsley and Jeremy's replacements, a married couple, Sue and Grant Vanstone. The moment the work was done, he left the school for Dumbledore's funeral. Many of the students would also be attending, others having a weekend with their parents, which meant that the school was almost deserted.

Sue quickly began to irritate Harry. She was only young, but it almost seemed as if she was trying to be like a mother. She said he was too thin, and kept urging him to socialise with the other students. When he snapped at her that the other students didn't want him, she said kindly, that he was being silly, that of course he was wanted. Harry walked over to Pansy Parkinson, and said, "Hello, Pansy. Do you want to play with me?"

Pansy looked at him as if he was a bug to be squashed, and turned her back. Harry raised a cold eyebrow at Sue, "So just leave me alone. Or if you want to be helpful, take these damn Bracelets off, and let me leave here."

Sue looked away uncomfortably. Her husband said, bracingly, "A Quidditch match tomorrow, Harry. You'll enjoy that, I'm sure."

Harry took the first opportunity of giving them the slip, and spent the next hours tucked away in a dungeon, reading, while the Aurors searched. He had a Locator Charm on him, but McGonnagal was in London, and they didn't have access to the monitor. They were less friendly after that. Harry reminded himself that he had to be quiet and obedient, in the hope that they'd decide to take off the Bracelets. The pain was as bad as ever, but Harry was beginning to learn the wizards' skill of putting the pain away from him, feeling it, but not feeling it. Voldemort had lived through periods of severe pain.

He was beginning to be able to feel other things more clearly as well. He could feel the wards, he felt he could almost _see _the wards. There were the ones geared just for him, on the external wall, and on the castle itself so he couldn't go out, those ones erected each night. He assumed there'd be a similar arrangement to stop him leaving his room at night, but with his guards ever present, he'd never tried it.

The Vanstones were not nearly as vigilant as Kingsley and Jeremy had been, and Harry slipped away again when they were distracted by the Quidditch match on Sunday.

Hagrid looked uneasily at Harry when he answered his knock. Harry asked, innocently, "Hagrid? Is everything all right? I just wanted to visit you for a little."

Hagrid grunted, looked down at him, and said reluctantly, "Cup o' tea?"

"Yes, please, Hagrid."

Hagrid didn't seem to know what to say, so Harry said how good it was to have him back after so long away, and then said sadly, that Hermione and Ron had been allowed to go to Professor Dumbledore's funeral, but he hadn't been allowed. "They say that people want me dead, you see, because I killed You-Know-Who. But the headmaster! I wanted to at least go to his funeral!"

Hagrid sniffed, and dabbed at his eyes, "Great man, Albus Dumbledore. Great man!"

Harry sighed, "He saw further than the rest of us."

Hagrid nodded vigorously. "Great man! Knew everythin' he did!"

"Everyone's so upset. I didn't want to bother anyone, but Ron gave me a trick present, and now I can't get them off. I think Fred and George made them, and you know what they are! Magic makes them tighter, but you could get them off." He held out his wrists, and said, "If you could just break the wrist-bands for me, it would be great."

Hagrid was not very bright, and Harry was hoping that no-one had mentioned that it had been Dumbledore who'd inflicted the Bracelets. It would have been better to lead up to it more gradually, but the Aurors would find him any moment. Hagrid looked at them, and said, "They're fancy!"

Harry put on a happy grin, "You can see how they tricked me. They really look great. But I didn't count on not being able to take them off. I'll lose points if I'm caught with them."

Hagrid set down his mug, and said, "Let's see."

Harry concealed his acute anxiety and hope as the half-giant pulled at them experimentally, and then tried to insert a large finger between his thin wrist and the band. Hagrid finally shook his head, "You'll have to ask someone else. There must be a trick to it."

Harry sighed, "Professor McGonnagal. I can understand she's stressed, but she's so strict these days! It'll be 100 points off Gryfindor probably, if they're not off by tomorrow. I don't like making her cross, not when she's still so distressed about the headmaster."

Hagrid grunted, "I heard you threw your medal at him."

"I'm sorry about that." Harry looked depressed, "I know he acted for the best." He was pulling at his wrist-band, and said, "You know, if we just tie something around in two places, you'll be able to pull it apart. I'm sure you could."

Hagrid lumbered to his feet, "A bit of twine, maybe. That should do it. But you tie it on. Your fingers are more nimble than mine."

Harry's impatience grew as Hagrid rummaged through messy cupboards. By the time he came up with some strong looking twine, there was a knock at the door. Harry said casually, "They insist on providing me with bodyguards, but they're a bit over-anxious. I'll just tell them I'm safe with you, will I?"

"I'll be happy to meet them."

"Hagrid... I wanted to ask your advice about something. Personal. Please don't ask them in now." The knock came again, and Harry, crossing his fingers, opened the door, and said to Sue, dismissively, "Just talking to Hagrid. He's a friend."

Sue looked past him at Hagrid, who beamed at her, "Little Suzy Dawlish, isn't it? How are you?"

Sue smiled at Hagrid, called to Grant that Harry was here, and entered. Harry sighed. All he could hope for now was that Hagrid wouldn't mention what he'd been about to do, in case there was another chance. But almost immediately, Hagrid said casually, "I was doing a favour for young Harry. He wants some trick wrist-bands off."

Sue said, looking sternly at Harry, "The wrist-bands are called Binding Bracelets. They Bind his magic, so that he can't do any damage when he loses his temper. He's not allowed to have them off."

Harry said vehemently, "I didn't hurt anyone, and there were just a few broken windows after I was brought here against my will." His voice was rising. "I'm not a criminal, and I've been imprisoned, drugged, and left in pain." He thumped a fist against the wall, and turned away from them all, trembling with his frustrated anger.

Hagrid said, "You tried to trick me, Harry. You lied to me."

Harry turned to him, pleading, "_Please, _Hagrid! Take them off. They hurt me!"

"I don't think I'd best do that, Harry."

Harry walked to the door, slammed it in Grant's face as he tried to follow, and fled into the Forbidden Forest, running hard until he'd lost his cursing pursuers.

The grounds of Hogwarts were very large, though much of it was taken up by the lake and the Forbidden Forest. Harry went on through the thick trees until he found the Boundary Wall, and tested it. But the wards ran here as well. He hurt himself time and again, trying to go close enough to climb the quite low wall before he gave up, found a dark place between the roots of an enormous tree, and wept in his acute frustration.

In the headmaster's office, McGonnagal noticed the alarm sound as the wards were tested, and inspected the indicators. She frowned, but when Snape asked if anything was wrong, she said that it was probably just a Muggle tourist on the far side of the grounds. "They come this way occasionally, but are quickly enough dissuaded." Snape was suspicious, but said nothing.

The meeting was about Harry. Minister Fudge, Amelia Bones, Vance McKenzie and Severus Snape. Snape was warning, "He's very unhappy, and the longer he's left in pain, the more likely it is that he'll revolt. He'll become embittered, maybe even dangerous!"

Fudge objected, "But what if he's dangerous now? Albus said he had enormous inherent power, and if it's been awakened, as the Prophecy said..."

Snape replied, "He's not normally dangerous. He had nothing to do with the death of the headmaster, and as for Voldemort, how can we punish him for that? He was put in that situation, and he reacted exactly as Albus expected."

McGonnagal added, "He's never been a trouble-maker. I could never understand the original Prophecy. He doesn't have it in him to attack and kill anyone, even Voldemort. He's just a boy, shamefully treated."

Amelia quoted softly, not quite accurately, "_Shame for the Side of Light! The innocent Child of Light lost and broken._"

Snape prompted, "So I can take off the Binding Bracelets?"

McKenzie said slowly, "With the power he's shown, and he's only been off the potions for a week... Maybe if he can be reasonably behaved for another week, we can risk it, but not return his wand for maybe another week, as long as he remains well behaved. Retain the guards indefinitely, for his own protection."

McGonnagal nodded, "I agree that he has the potential to be dangerous, though hopefully not the inclination. The headmaster never mentioned it to me, but I found a report on him the other day, a test done in his first year. It indicated an extremely high potential power."

McKenzie was surprised, "He always argued against routine testing like that. Said that everyone had potential, and that potential should not be limited to what people expect."

"He knew the Prophecy, of course. There was a reason."

Snape said, "I've sometimes suspected that Harry performs in class well below his capabilities."

Amelia was interested, "So what's his usual position in class?"

McGonnagal answered, "About the middle. Like Severus, I've suspected he could do better if he wanted to."

Snape said, "You do know that he came very close to dying last week, don't you? The headmaster didn't want him making a scene, so he was given pure Compliance potion, and an additional Calming potion, on top of the strong potion he'd taken in the morning. I could have pointed out that the combination could kill him, but I was not consulted. Then the usual bed-time Sleeping potion was nearly the end of him. He was very lucky the guards checked on him when they did. He's not usually checked more than once or twice a night."

Amelia nodded, "An innocent child. It really is shameful!"

Fudge blustered, "It's not that I'm not grateful for what his sacrifice has done for us, but he must be restrained! And the Binding Bracelets are painless, Albus said."

Snape said steadily, "He's no longer taking sleeping potions every night. The guards report that he has frequent nightmares, and even when he's apparently asleep, he's often whimpering in pain, even crying."

McGonnagal demurred, "He's always had nightmares. He's notorious for it. Doesn't mean he's in severe pain."

Snape said abruptly, "We can't afford to wait too long. He would make a formidable enemy."

McGonnagal said, "I'll have a talk with him. Promise him that all he has to do is behave, and he can be as free as any other child."

Amelia said, "Albus was his Demter Guardian. Who will take his place?"

There was a silence. Snape looked around the group with a sneer. They professed to care about him, and there was not a one willing to take responsibility! He shrugged, "Sirius Black is not competent, and Harry doesn't want him. I will act as his guardian, in the Summers as well. The Dursleys abused him."

"I heard something about that. Is it true?"

"The headmaster thought it would keep him humble. He told me once that he'd had to intervene, as the uncle had become too extreme."

They were uncomfortable at the thought that the late headmaster had condoned neglect, possibly abuse, and Amelia said quickly, "If everyone's in agreement then, I'll send you the papers to sign."

Snape nodded curtly, "I'll inform him once it's done."

**_hphp**_

Harry was still in that hollow between tree roots, just lying there, wet and very cold. It had been raining. They didn't find him for a long time, and then only with the help of the centaurs. Hagrid said, quite kindly, "Come on now, Harry. It's the Halloween Feast tonight. You can't stay here." Halloween. Voldemort had killed his parents the night of Halloween. But death didn't come merely because one willed it, at least not when your magic is Bound. Reluctantly, stiffly, Harry pulled himself to his feet, and walked with Hagrid and the Aurors.

Snape visited Gryffindor Tower before dinner, and raked him down for his disobedience. Harry looked away, indifferent. Snape said, frustrated, "You _must_ behave. They won't authorise the removal of the Bracelets unless you behave."

Harry glanced at him, "Will they ever?"

"Of course they will! No-one wants to see you like this."

Harry shrugged. If they hadn't wanted to see him like this, they would simply have left him at Kreighley. He would have gone to Muggle school, and have Muggle friends. What about his vault at Gringotts? To access Diagon Alley, one needed magic. If he didn't satisfactorily complete fifth year, he couldn't legally use a wand, though they couldn't stop him using magic. Not now, when he no longer needed a wand.

He looked down at the Binding Bracelets. Handsome. Decorative. Instruments of torture. Snape said, "I hear you tricked Hagrid into trying to break one. I have access to the reference book the headmaster used now. According to that, if just one Bracelet is somehow removed, the subject goes into convulsions because of the imbalance, and then dies."

Harry still looked down, and now traced a line around his wrist. So if he'd cut off his hand, then it wouldn't do him much good. Might as well just cut his throat.

Snape felt a surge of worry, and grabbed his chin, making the boy look at him. He dropped his hand, and turned away. Quietly, he said, "The restrictions will _not_ last forever, Harry. Fudge and McKenzie are worried by your power, but there are others concerned to have you happy again. Things _will_ improve."

Harry said quietly, "They eat away at me, cutting at something inside me. It makes it hard to think." He looked up, "I'll try not to cause trouble, Sir, but I don't think I can live with this for much longer."

McGonnagal also spoke with him later that evening, sitting down with him at dinner. There was loud laughter and chatter, but Harry was quiet, sitting at the table, waiting for the Aurors to be ready to leave. As usual, they'd placed themselves between him and the door. She said, "Hagrid was upset that you lied to him, Harry."

Harry supposed she'd order him to apologise, but had anyone apologised to him? He wrinkled his brow, - Had Hermione? He thought he remembered something, but mostly they just acted as if it was a _good_ thing, and he was being difficult not being happy about it all. He asked directly, "If you had known, would you have allowed it?"

McGonnagal stood up, stiffly, "That's hypothetical, Mr. Potter, and quite irrelevant. I expect better behaviour from you in future."

Then there was Hermione, quietly sitting next to him. "Hello, Harry." When he didn't answer, she said, quietly, "They're doing their best, you know. I'm sure if you just behave..."

Abruptly, Harry stood up and stalked out. Grant reached out and grabbed his arm, bringing him to a sudden halt. For a moment, Harry looked as if he was about to hit, but Charlie quickly said, "I'll go with you to the library, if you like, Harry. Maybe then the Aurors can finish their meal."

Sue glanced at her husband, "I've finished. I'll stay with him, and you can find us there if you like."

Charlie spoke quite gently, putting an arm around Harry, "Come on. We're going to the library."

The older boy didn't try and get any response from him, just sitting with him, reading, while Sue took up her position nearer the door. Before Grant arrived, Harry said quietly, "They'll make me take potions again if I lose my temper with them. Thanks for helping."

"I don't blame you for losing your temper. They must be a right pain to put up with."

For the first time in weeks, Harry's mouth quirked in what was almost a grin, "They are."

"Do you want to talk, or just read?"

Harry glanced at the book in front of him, "You needn't stay. I'm all right now."

Charlie took the hint, turned away slightly with his own book, and stretched his long legs out in front of him, using a second chair as a footrest. The librarian came past not long later, opened her mouth in order to rebuke him, but looked at the small figure beside him, who'd killed Death Eaters by the hundred, and very likely the headmaster besides, and hurried past instead.

Harry noticed. He was becoming used to that reaction. There was no place left to him in the wizarding world. He would always be either a figure of contempt, or something to fear.

***chapter end***


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_ **_

_**Chapter 7:**_

The new swimming pool was commenced, and an area mapped out for a gymnasium. Harry didn't take much notice, though there was a lot of excited talk. The pool was expected to be ready in just a few days, though the gymnasium would take longer, as no-one knew quite what went into a gymnasium.

Another week of lessons. Harry tried to behave in case what Snape said was true, - that if only he behaved, they'd take off the Bracelets. He engrossed himself in the books of advanced magic, occasionally spoke to Neville, also Charlie and his mates, but was still very quiet. Except that they no longer inflicted potions on him, the Aurors' instructions hadn't changed. Sue and Grant were bored, as the boy remained uncommunicative, what they saw as sulky. They were two of many who'd concluded that Harry didn't deserve any credit for the defeat of Voldemort. It had merely been a consequence of something going wrong with the risky Rite of Cerlikh. Sue had some compassion for him, but Grant's lip tended to curl when he regarded him. No self-respecting wizard could possibly allow himself to be raped!

Thursday evening, and Harry took up his usual position in the corner of the large Common Room, a book in front of him. It was November. A few trees had leaves clinging to them but most were bare and stark against a frequently stormy sky. The never-ending pain gnawed at him, and he'd lost more weight. He pulled his cape closer about him, and shivered. The Aurors were taking no notice of him, sitting close to the entrance to their room. The exit door of the Common Room was warded against Harry, but other students still came and went. Few of the older students were present. It was an hour yet before curfew, 'Lights Out' an hour after that, though McGonnagal hardly ever checked, and the Aurors considered it none of their business.

Three fourth year girls looked up in surprise when he took a chair close to them, and close to the fire. The first was Lisa Smythe, who'd lost her father and two brothers, all dead in the same instant that Voldemort had died. She narrowed her eyes in hatred, as he settled himself and started to read again. She looked around for the Aurors, out of sight behind a large group of first years, then quietly slipped out her wand. She glanced at Anita, and whispered, "He can't do magic."

Anita looked nervous and excited as she stood and drew her own wand.

The third girl whispered urgently, "What are you doing? It wasn't his fault."

Lisa cast her a look of contempt, aimed her wand, and said the incantation for a stinging hex. Harry jumped at the harsh sting in his shoulder, automatically went for his wand, and then raised his closed book instead, in time to block the second spell, sent by Anita.

Another sting, on his leg this time, and Harry was up, took a swift stride to Lisa, and briskly struck her hand, making her drop her wand. He picked it up, fast, and turned it onto Anita. Anita froze, but Lisa called, "Hurt him, Nita! He can't work magic any more, remember!"

Anita laughed, "I forgot for a moment. You're a Muggle now, Harry, aren't you?"

Lisa urged, "He deserves to be hurt, Nita! Remember what Sean is now!"

Harry frowned, "Sean Bowen?"

Anita replied in a cold voice, "Sean. My former boyfriend. He sits in a chair, dribbles, sometimes wets himself. He can't walk any more. He can't think."

Harry said clearly, "I do not take responsibility for those who died or were injured because they were linked to Voldemort. All I did was defend myself against the one who was hurting me. I will always claim the right to defend myself, magic or not."

The third of the group of friends, Jacinta, said urgently, "Leave him alone, Anita! It's Harry Potter. Merlin knows what he can do!"

Lisa mocked, "He's just a Muggle now, Cinny. A witch can do exactly what she wants to a Muggle!"

Harry said coolly, "If I'm a Muggle, then I am not bound by the normal ethics of wizardkind. A wand used against me is a wand liable to be broken over my knee!" It was not something that wizards did, attack each others' wands. One's own wand was too precious. It was a serious threat.

Anita curled her lip, and started to utter the words of a Paralysis Spell. Harry moved very fast, kicked the wand out of her hand, caught it, and broke it over his knee, followed by Lisa's wand. They stared at him, mouth agape. Harry displayed the sharp ends of the broken wands, "Muggles have weapons, too, you know. A wand can become a sharp stick, and a sharp stick is good for gouging out eyes. I am Harry Potter, and Muggle, Squib or wizard, I _will_ defend myself!"

The confrontation had drawn an audience, mostly of first and second years, with a sprinkling of older students, including a seventh year, John Pettit, who'd been a close friend of the unfortunate Sean. He was Anita's cousin.

Sue noticed the sound of the girls' outraged cries at the far end of the room, and said, quite casually, "I can't see Harry in his usual place."

Grant reluctantly rose to his feet, "We'd best check."

Pettit decided that Harry's full attention was focussed on the girls who'd attacked him, and aimed his wand, - a powerful cutting curse. Harry caught the flash of the spell, and hurled himself to the side, knocking over a first year girl, who screamed. The spell missed, but grazed a boy, who yelped, and grabbed his bleeding leg. Harry growled, "Pettit," and came after him.

Pettit tripped over a chair, aimed at Harry again, and yelled, _"Stupify!"_ but again Harry twisted out of the way. Harry was on him then, grabbing the wand with one hand, and punching with the other. Pettit vainly tried to avoid the punishing blows.

Grant pushed through the younger students, and roared, "Potter! Leave him alone."

Harry pushed himself off Pettit, still holding his wand. He started to say something, but Pettit interrupted, "He attacked innocent girls. I tried to stop him."

Grant aimed his wand at Harry, "Come with me, Potter. You're to go to bed now, and with a potion to keep you quiet."

Harry raised his fists, "I was defending myself. You're not to touch me!"

One of the first years called, "The girls started it. Harry didn't do anything wrong."

Harry's eyes flicked to her, and he said, "Meggie, run and fetch Snape will you? Quick as you can."

The child ran. Her friend ran with her, and said, "I'll get McGonnagal, you get Snape."

Meggie panted, "It's not fair!" before peeling off toward the corridor that led to the dungeons.

Snape was in his office when the girl erupted into his room, and poured out her story. Snape glanced at the two boys doing a Detention, and briskly told them to get out.

Meggie trotted behind Snape as he strode toward the Gryffindor Tower, robes billowing. Snape snapped, "You said that Harry didn't start it."

"Lisa Smythe started it. Her and her friends."

"Pettit?"

"Aimed a spell at Harry."

"What spell?"

"The incantation was something like Hendiya Vol Septri."

"Could it have _Hendrieya Voleceptri?" _

"That sounds like it."

"Did it hit anyone?"

"It hit Peter Winton, but only a bit, I think."

"You did well, coming for me."

"Harry said to."

"Not Professor McGonnagal?"

"He said to get you, Sir, but my friend, Vi, went for McGonnagal." She should have said Professor McGonnagal, but Snape was in too much of a hurry for the routine reprimand, and only snapped out the password as they came to the portrait over the entrance to Gryffindor Common Room. McGonnagal was just behind him.

The situation was almost unchanged, Harry standing defiant with fists raised, both Aurors covering him with their wands. Lisa had recovered the broken pieces of the two wands, furious and distressed. Anita stood beside her, but Jacinta was having nothing to do with either of them. John Pettit sat in a chair, leaning his head back, while his girlfriend patted a wet towel over his bloodstained face. Someone had retrieved his wand from the floor, still intact. The injured boy stood in a widening pool of blood, looking a bit bewildered. It didn't hurt that much!

McGonnagal went straight to the boy, made a quick inspection, and then sealed the wound with a spell. Snape swiftly and competently interrogated the witnesses. The Aurors lowered their wands. Snape concluded, clearly, "So you girls attacked without warning, and all he did was take your wands. Then Pettit attacked and missed Harry, but hit young Winton."

Harry said quietly, "It was the Hendrix Curse."

Snape nodded, "So you punched him."

"I stopped him."

Snape turned to the Aurors, "Harry Potter has done nothing to warrant punishment. And as you so abysmally failed to protect him, you are dismissed from this position. Please pack your things, and get out."

Grant blustered, "He's aggressive and unstable. And besides, it's up to Chief Auror McKenzie whether we should be dismissed, not you."

McGonnagal said calmly, "I am headmistress of this school, and you are no longer welcome here."

Sue touched her husband on the arm, "Come on, Grant. We made a mistake."

Grant glared a moment longer at the teachers, before turning on his heel, and going to pack.

Harry felt he was still on display. The pain from the Binding Bracelets was rapidly increasing, but he must not show weakness. The weak invited bullying, and without magic, among wizards, he was vulnerable. He picked up his book and returned to the chair next to the fire. Anita and Lisa flinched away from him, but Jacinta sat down next to him, and then Meggie and her friend.

Harry smiled at Meggie, "Do you know how to do the repair spell? The book's spine is broken."

Meggie said uncertainly, "I don't know."

"Just tap it with your wand, visualise it fixed, and say _Reparo."_

Meggie did as he requested, grinned all over her face at her success, and passed back the book.

Harry inspected and said, "Well done. And thanks."

Meggie sat back, beaming. So what if something shameful had happened to him? It was Harry Potter, who'd faced a dragon just last year. He was a Fighter, but he'd always been nice to the younger kids.

Snape said, "Minerva? Your students?"

McGonnagal nodded, "Miss Pettit, Miss Smythe, are either of you hurt?"

Lisa said, in a trembling voice, "He hit me and he broke my wand."

"Mine, too. And he kicked my hand!"

"Go to Madam Pomfrey if you're hurt. As for your wands, it seems to me that it serves you right."

Anita said quickly, "I only sent a Stinger, nothing serious and it didn't even hit."

Lisa sobbed, "That's all I did, too."

"Detentions for the pair of you, and sixty points each off Gryffindor. It's a shameful thing to attack someone who can't retaliate."

Pettit, listening, touched his swelling eye. He'd been very foolish, and now it would probably be expulsion, especially as the Winton boy had been hit. McGonnagal turned to him, "My office. Now!"

Snape waited until the Aurors had emerged with their bags, and said, "Mr. Potter, would you please come to your room now. We'll treat the bruises those stupid girls inflicted."

Without comment, Harry followed him to his rooms. Snape said calmly, "You might acknowledge that the Aurors are needed now. I suggest that you keep within their sight."

"You're going to replace them then?"

"Tomorrow, probably. We'll make different arrangements for you tonight."

"Are you going to punish me?"

"There is no cause. Now, where did the spells hit?"

Harry stripped off his outer clothing, showing the obvious burn and bruise of hex marks on his thigh and on his shoulder. Snape dabbed on the anti-bruising lotion, which quickly took away most of the swelling. The boy was so tense. Snape asked, "Is there anything else? Did Pettit hurt you?" Harry hugged himself, and Snape touched his pale forehead, "Harry?"

Harry muttered, "Sometimes the pain gets worse. When I need to do magic, and can't. Then it gets very bad."

Snape frowned, "Stay here. I'm going to fetch Madam Pomfrey."

Harry said hopelessly, "Why? She won't take them off. She can't do anything." He'd begun to shiver. Briskly, Snape helped him into his pyjamas, and cast a warming spell over the room.

When Snape returned with the nurse, almost a quarter of an hour later, they found Harry still sitting on the edge of the bed, hugging himself tighter than ever, and rocking himself. Madam Pomfrey hurried to his side. Tears were streaming down his face, and when she asked what was wrong, he didn't answer. He couldn't talk. If he tried to talk he would scream. It had never been this bad. Dumbledore was killing him. He'd thought so before, but now he knew. Dumbledore had always intended this, to break him, to kill him with the pain the first time he tried to fight.

Madam Pomfrey asked, "Severus?"

Snape replied, "If we take off the Bracelets without permission, we risk Fudge deciding to do worse in order to control him. I think he's afraid of Harry being too powerful."

Madam Pomfrey said gently, "I can help you, Harry. But only if you permit me to do a spell, or agree to take a potion."

Harry shook his head, still silent.

Madam Pomfrey put a gentle hand to the side of his face, "You can trust me, Harry. Let me help you."

Harry's cry was wrenched from him, "I can trust _nobody!_ Nobody will help me!"

Snape said dryly, "You did send for me." But Harry only bit his lip, and looked away.

Madam Pomfrey called clearly, "Vriella?" A house-elf appeared, and Madam Pomfrey said, "Could you get Harry a large mug of hot chocolate, heavily sweetened." When she sat next to him on the bed, her body in contact, and coaxed, he accepted the drink, and his trembling gradually diminished. Softly, she asked, "Better?"

"Much better. Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

He was still white and tense, but his shivering had died down. The nurse put a hand to his face, and ordered, "Take off your pyjama jacket and lie face down. I'm going to give you a backrub."

He looked confused, and said, "No reason for that. I'll be all right now."

Snape said dryly, "Do as she says, Potter. You know she always gets her way." Harry did as she said.

Snape leaned against the wall and observed as the nurse calmly rubbed his back, gently at first, just stroking, more vigorous as he began to relax. Harry's eyes closed, and Snape wondered if she'd slipped a pain-relieving potion into that hot chocolate. After a while, she sat up stiffly, and complained that she was too old to be giving backrubs.

Harry said quietly, "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. It was like a cramp in the leg, you see, except that it was all through me." He started to turn over, and then cried out, and curled himself in a ball, his face buried in the pillow.

Pomfrey asked, "Severus? Just a gentle stroking to begin with."

Snape looked dubiously at the boy, who was making no noise, but rocking himself a little again.

Madam Pomfrey said firmly, "Harry, you're to lie properly, flat. Severus will do what I was doing."

Harry whimpered, and curled himself tighter. Snape said sternly, "Do as you're told, Harry. Lie flat!"

Shakily, breathing in short gasps, Harry complied, and Snape started touching, feeling him tense, knotted up, like a leg in cramp, just as he'd said. After a while, he asked, "Has it been like this before?"

Harry gritted, "No."

Snape was sorry he'd said anything. He'd made some small progress, but drawing that word from him had sent him back to the start. Patiently, he persevered, after a while, slipping off his cape, and kneeling on the bed, a knee on each side of the boy's legs, so he could work without twisting his own back.

McGonnagal raised her eyebrows when she found them like that, and looked at the watching nurse for an explanation. Pomfrey went with her to the sitting room, and explained. McGonnagal said, "Surely it would have been more simple to make him take a potion."

"He refused a potion. I feel it would be fatal to force him." She lowered her voice further, "Severus told me days ago that he was desperate enough to kill himself. Just one more abuse of trust, and we'll lose him."

"You know what it looks like, of course."

"For appearance's sake, it would be best if one of his friends stay with him tonight, as well as Severus."

"Is Severus planning on staying?"

"I believe so."

McGonnagal nodded, "I'll arrange it."

The pain was easing again. Harry lay quite still, trying to relax, focusing on the feel of the hands on his back, more firm than those of the nurse's. They seemed to draw away the tension, draw away the anger and pain.

Snape smiled in satisfaction as he felt the boy's relaxation. He'd caused pain sometimes, in his role of Death Eater. This was the first time in his life that he'd set out to ease pain. He was rather pleased with himself when it seemed to be working. He was sorry for the boy, and had a grudging respect for him as well. Even now, he didn't seem like a victim. John Pettit, a seventh year with a wand, and he'd defeated him. And stating that if he was a Muggle, he had a perfect right to break wands, - that was a clever ploy.

He worked rhythmically, his mind wandering. He didn't notice when the nurse and the headmistress slipped quietly out, but did notice when Charlie Greaves looked in, and then silently withdrew. Harry felt quite different now under his hands, and he worked on him a little more vigorously, easing the remaining tension out of muscles, still kneeling over him. He thought that Harry was almost asleep, and was surprised when the sleepy voice came, "Do you want to do to me what Voldemort did?"

Snape said calmly, "You're too thin and the wrong gender. Besides, when you say no, it tends to be a little over-dramatic."

Harry actually chuckled, and Snape smiled in response. He'd begun to think the boy would never smile again, let alone laugh. He continued working. Harry didn't suggest that he stop. He thought it was the first time in his life that he'd felt as if someone was actively caring for him. He presumed his parents might have done, but he had no true memories of that time in his life, only vague impressions.

Snape's hands became more gentle. The boy seemed totally relaxed, nearly asleep. He'd stop soon. Surely he'd been working an hour or more. Harry asked, very quietly, "Professor Snape, can you do something for me please?"

"Maybe."

"I want a document to say that I've satisfactorily completed fifth year, so I can be regarded as a wizard, even if I'm not."

"Why do you want that?"

"I want to be buried as a wizard, with my wand in my hand."

"A shortcut, Harry? I didn't expect that from you."

"A shortcut. I want the right to carry a wand, and when I die, I want to be buried with my wand in my hand."

"I doubt if your death is imminent."

"Please, Professor?"

"I'll see the headmistress."

"Thank you, Sir."

Harry went to sleep then. When he was sure, Snape gently eased himself off the bed, and stretched. Charlie sat in the sitting room, and asked, "Asleep?"

Snape nodded.

"Madam Pomfrey left a potion for your back and shoulders. She said that if you take it tonight, you won't suffer for it tomorrow."

Snape rolled his shoulders, feeling the strain. "She's an excellent nurse."

"I heard him talking to you. He hardly talks to anyone."

"A few sentences, that's all. He wanted a favour."

"The Bracelets off?"

"Something different."

Snape slept lightly that night, several times checking on Harry. Once he found him moving restlessly, and muttering. In a firm, but not loud voice, Snape told him to go back to sleep, that there was no need for nightmares any more. That all his nightmares were gone. To the man's utter astonishment, there was a muttered assent, and Harry stopped fidgeting. Snape scratched his head. He would never have believed that a high strung teenager was so easy to look after.

When next Snape saw Harry, it was morning, he was talking with Charlie, and getting his school books out. Snape observed, "You're looking a lot better."

"It's not too bad today. It was good of you to help me."

"Does that mean you're going to start working in class?"

"Not until I'm no longer a prisoner."

"You've been told before, do your best to behave, and you will not be a prisoner for much longer."

Harry's mouth quirked a little. One thing about Snape, he hardly ever lied to him. McGonnagal would have told him that he was not a prisoner. Dumbledore would have tried to persuade him that it was all for the best, and then he'd say something like how much he cared for him. His former friends? Hermione and Ron would simply have been embarrassed, and made sure to keep away. Fred and George as well. He'd given them his Triwizard earnings, but they hadn't been near him since his return. He'd never wondered why Snape had helped give him to Voldemort. In his calculations, it would have been simple, - that his life was worth far less than all those who would have otherwise died. Harry Potter had worked out long ago that his life was only important to himself, except insofar as he was of use, whether to do Aunt Petunia's cooking for her, or to slay a wicked wizard for Dumbledore.

Snape was observing him like a specimen. Harry twitched his shoulders a little in irritation, and searched again for the book he'd mislaid. Snape said, "You go along, Mr. Greaves. Harry and I will eat here." Charlie glanced at Harry, and left.

Snape raised his voice, "Vesna?" A house-elf popped into their presence. Snape asked, "Vesna, Harry and I are having breakfast here this morning. Would you organise it, please."

"Yes, Sir."

Harry asked as she vanished, "Do all members of staff have personal house-elves?"

"They belong to Hogwarts, but each of us have one assigned."

"Convenient."

Snape was feeling a little embarrassed, almost like the morning after an intimate encounter between almost-strangers. Harry didn't seem disturbed, but maybe he had some memory of the times when Snape had bathed him, or cleaned him up.

Vesna was quick to have the study table transformed into a dining table, and Harry remarked, in a tone of surprise, "I'm actually hungry!"

Snape waited until Harry seemed to have finished before saying, "You know that the headmaster was your Demter Guardian?"

Harry was puzzled, "My Aunt Petunia is my guardian."

"Did he never explain to you?"

"No."

"Your relatives are your legal guardians, but Muggle-born and Muggle-raised children also have a DMTH Guardian, usually referred to as a Demter Guardian."

"I've never heard the term."

"They're appointed by the DMT, the Ministry that is, in conjunction with Hogwarts, thus DMTH. They're authorised to deal with problems within the magical world, and also to take over guardianship entirely if the Muggle guardians are unsatisfactory for some reason. Albus Dumbledore was appointed your Demter Guardian when your parents died."

"He censored my mail, especially this year, and limited the amount of money that I could take from my vault. I never understood why he was allowed to do that."

"As your Demter Guardian, he could do that. There are quite a few Muggle-born in Gryffindor, each of whom must have a Demter Guardian. Has no-one ever mentioned it?"

"No."

"For most of them, it would be Minerva as House Mistress. Maybe there's been no need for her to take any active role."

Harry nodded, "Hermione's Muggle-born. Her parents are nice. They support her. I don't think she knows about any other guardian."

Snape was unaccountably nervous, wondering how the boy would take it. He concluded quickly, "Anyway, a Demter Guardian is supposed to act always in the best interests of the child, to look after him as best he can. There was Sirius Black, but no-one thinks him suitable. I have volunteered to replace the headmaster as your guardian. It has been approved."

Harry asked curiously, "Are you going to act always in my best interests, and look after me as best you can?"

Snape said quietly, and it was a declaration, "I am."

Harry said coolly, "Well that'll be a pleasant novelty. Was there anything else you wanted to tell me this morning?"

Snape smiled slightly, "I think that might be enough for one breakfast."

"Will I be going back to my relatives for the Summer?"

"Unless you want to, you will never see your relatives again."

"I have no desire to see them ever again."

"Do you have anything there you need to collect?"

Harry shook his head, and glanced at the clock, "Potions first. Will I just go by myself?"

"I need to call in to my apartment. You might as well come with me."

"Yes, Sir."

Harry didn't really expect it to make much difference to him in his current situation, but again and again, he thought of the commitment in Snape's voice when he stated that he would try and act as a Demter Guardian was supposed to act. He traced the silver runes on the Binding Bracelets, and looked back at Snape, gliding back and forth in front of the class as he lectured on the uses of a certain obscure ingredient. Further information came to his awareness, that it was one of the primary ingredients in the illegal Luxus potion. Information from Voldemort. He could never tell anyone about that. They'd condemn him. It would be worse than when he'd spoken Parseltongue.

Just a single period of Potions, then Divination, but by then Jeremy and Kingsley had appeared, and he walked to Trelawney's lesson with their escort. Kingsley said, "You were in a fight, they said."

"The Vanstones assumed I'd lost control. I was probably lucky they didn't put me down as a danger to society."

"You were attacked?"

"Stinging curses by a couple of silly girls, then another by a seventh year. I didn't know that one."

"The wrist-bands still bothering you?"

"Not so much today."

But then they were in Divination, and Professor Trelawney gave her usual exaggerated start, and kept well clear of him. Jeremy murmured to Kingsley, "He's a lot better, I think."

Kingsley nodded. "Far more alert, and he spoke to us."

"He did speak to us sometimes before."

"Not often."

****

Later that day, when classes were finished, there was a meeting at the Ministry. Snape, now officially Harry's Demter Guardian, Professor McGonnagal, Fudge and Vance McKenzie. Snape insisted, "He was just reading when he was hit with a stinging hex. He acted with total self-control, but you can't expect a boy who's been groomed to take on the Dark Lord to just sit and take whatever ignorant students choose to hand out."

"Did he really break their wands?"

"According to him, we've made him a Muggle, and therefore he's no longer bound by wizards' rules."

McKenzie nodded, "I suppose he has a point."

"All he has left to defend himself, are fists and threats. You can't expect him not to use them."

Snape emerged victorious. Harry could be released from the Binding Bracelets, but they were to be put back on if there were any incidents of wild magic. If he was well behaved for another week, then his wand could be returned. The bodyguards were to remain indefinitely, but they were to be explained to others as purely for the boy's _protection, _not to guard the boy. The restraints on his movements were to remain.

****

Madam Pomfrey bustled straight over to Harry when he was escorted to the Hospital Wing, "I'm to take off the Binding Bracelets, Harry."

Snape was in the corner, pleased as Harry's face blazed into a look of shining hope. He cautioned, "Not your wand back yet. In a week provided there are no problems. The bodyguards remain indefinitely. You probably have fewer enemies in your own house than in any other, and yet you were seriously attacked."

Kingsley asked, "What was the curse, do you know, Severus?"

"The Hendrix Curse, I think. Witnesses heard the incantation, though Pettit asserted it was just a stinging hex."

"His punishment?"

"Sent home. He'll probably be expelled."

Harry asked tentatively, "Madam Pomfrey?" He held out his wrists.

The nurse instructed, "Touch the Binding Bracelets together, and make sure you hold them together. They'll fall off as soon as I work the spell. You may feel an uncomfortable sensation as they do."

Harry glanced at the thick book she had open on her desk, and pressed the Bracelets firmly together. Madam Pomfrey touched the point of her wand to where they touched, and chanted softly, _Homorapas, Homorapas, Vahanishi, Cupoarhumor, Vahanishi Vree Pas Dey._" There was a spark from her wand, but nothing else happened. Harry's expression of hope vanished, but he didn't move. Madam Pomfrey looked at Snape, puzzled, then tried again.

Snape walked across and studied the book, "The incantation's right."

"Did you see when the headmaster put them on?"

"Only enough to hear that the spell was in Old Aniragi, not Latin or English."

"Could he have done something else?"

"It's possible. They were never supposed to be painful, and Harry's been in severe pain." He went across and studied the book, then turned the page, went back to study the runes on the Bracelets, and said, "I wonder where he got them."

Harry looked away. They weren't going to help him. Probably had never intended to help him. Next, Snape would offer to try, and that would be when the incantation _Avada Kedavra _would come instead of that involved phrase that didn't even sound like a spell. They were going to put him down, but his so-called Demter Guardian preferred to do it without frightening him. Did it matter? He glanced at the door, where the two big guards stood solid.

Madam Pomfrey said, "Maybe it's simply that Dumbledore had extra power. His spells might be harder to break than most."

Kingsley stirred, "No-one is accepted into Auror Training unless they have higher than average power. Will I try?"

"Please." He studied the incantation, said the words carefully, rehearsing, and then instructed Harry to hold out his hands. Harry looked away from him, but held out his hands. The pain was starting again, and he had a feeling it was going to be very bad.

There was no result when Kingsley tried, no result when Jeremy made an attempt. Snape sent for Professor Flitwick, for his knowledge of Charms, and Trimble, who should know about Dark Artefacts. He made an attempt himself then, and for the first time, Harry felt a sensation, like a twist in his guts, and fell to his knees, with a cry of pain. Snape asked hopefully, "Did it work?"

Harry staggered to his feet, trembling, and held out his hands again, demanding urgently, "Please, Sir, try again. You nearly did it. I felt it." Snape tried three more times, but there was no result more than a brief hurt. The Bracelets remained.

By the time Trimble made the attempt, Harry was sweating, shaking and white with pain.

Snape intervened when again there was no result, "Enough for now. Kingsley, would you return to London, and see about finding an expert, urgently. Consult with the Research Department. Harry, are you up to returning to your room, now?"

Harry started to get up, but fell to the ground, writhing in pain. There was a half stifled groan.

The nurse pulled down the bedcovers of a nearby bed, and Snape picked him up bodily, lay him down, and started stroking over his clothed body. It took a long time this time before he was able to lie still and relaxed. Snape said, quite gently, "Harry, it takes too long this way. If it happens again, you'll have to accept either spells or potions."

"Yes."

"So which is it to be?"

"Spells. You never know what a potion will do to you." His voice was calm, his body still relaxed.

Snape pointed out, "You never know what a spell will do to you, either."

"Mmm."

"Ready to go back to your room?"

"In a little while."

Snape nodded, and left Jeremy to guard him. Harry slept.

McGonnagal had been waiting for him, but in the staffroom rather than her office because of the numbers of people. Snape was introduced to the three he didn't know, Thalia Lovegood, head of the Research Department, and two of her staff, brothers Larry and Vincent Carlyle. There were also the Ministry Healer, Peter Braithwaite, and Amelia Bones. Several teachers were gathered around. Professor Flitwick was holding open the textbook they'd been referring to, but there were a stack of other books on the table, some open. Braithwaite said, "Minerva told me he was in a bad way."

Snape said bluntly, "He was in agony. It can't go on."

Flitwick explained, "We've been trying to work out just exactly what Albus did. It has to be more than what is described in the text-books."

"I don't think Dumbledore wanted him to be free, ever."

The middle-aged woman, Lovegood, asked, "What sort of pain, and how severe?"

Snape explained, and said, "Like his whole body is cramping, but deep inside. Backrubbing helps, because after a while he can make himself relax, though the nurse thinks it's a little more complex than that. He's still in the Hospital Wing, but he's better in his own room, I think."

"Best leave him there for the moment. Larry's on to something."

Discussions continued, especially between the three from the Research Department. Braithwaite went to have a look at Harry, and the Professor who taught ancient runes copied down the ones marked on the Bracelets for closer study. Finally he went over to the Carlyle brothers, "This one is not as described in the book. These Bracelets are not merely to Bind magic. It depends on the spell he used as well, but I think they've been made to destroy a wizard's magic without killing the wizard."

"They've been on five weeks."

"If we get them off tonight, he might have something left to him, but he'll never be a powerful wizard."

Trimble observed, "Maybe that's not such a bad thing. It's obviously what our esteemed headmaster thought best."

Snape wheeled on him, "It's a _wicked_ thing. Just because Dumbledore liked to think of himself as the most powerful wizard in England, there was no need to punish an innocent boy!"

Larry Carlyle cut in, "I'm ready to have a go now. It'll be a series of spells, so I suggest that someone he trusts, stun him first. I don't want him panicking."

Snape said dryly, "Thanks to his history, I don't believe there's a single person in the world whom he does trust."

Harry lay unmoving in the bed, with a frown of pain on his face. If he tried to move, it would seize him again, he knew it. When Snape said that he wanted to stun him so the spells wouldn't hurt him, he said, "Please, as a wizard. I want my wand in my hand."

Snape frowned, not quite sure of the reference. Harry clarified, "If he kills me, I want to be buried as a wizard."

Snape gripped his hand, "You have a Demter Guardian now. If he kills you, he'll have me to reckon with."

Harry smiled, and didn't even flinch when the spell was inflicted.

They worked for hours then, starting by taking off the Locator Charm, and then using a series of revealing spells in an attempt to clarify the situation. Larry Carlyle was seriously annoyed that his concentrated efforts didn't work. Others had a try, Snape with the same series of spells that Carlyle had used, since he'd achieved some result before, but all that happened this time, was that Harry was pulled back into awareness, screaming with renewed pain. Amelia Bones turned away, tears in her eyes. Braithwaite observed dispassionately, "If there was any wild magic left to him, the windows would be breaking by now."

Snape held Harry firmly by the shoulder, "I'm going to stun you again. Don't be afraid, we're working for your benefit."

Harry gasped, bit his lip, and tried to be silent. Snape said, "Good boy," and he was stunned again, quiet.

At last, they stood around, defeated. Braithwaite asked, "Do you mind if I give him a thorough examination, Severus? See just exactly what condition he's in."

"Very thin, and weakening by the day."

"Yes... Do you mind?"

Snape sighed, "I don't mind. There is no need for anyone else to be present however."

It was quite a quick check, using a series of monitors that the school nurse was apt to condemn as 'new fangled nonsense.' He noted down results, then requested that Snape helped strip him, and thoroughly inspected his body, first his front, and then they turned him over. The healer remarked, "You'll have to take care of him. Some might think it an honour to go where only the Dark Lord has been before. And without any magic, he's helpless."

Snape was annoyed, "He's quick, bright, and he has an enormous courage. Anyone trying it might be in for an unpleasant surprise."

Braithwaite took in his glare, and said firmly, "I wouldn't dream of abusing a child, Severus. We'll dress him now."

Snape put aside his sudden suspicion, thinking he was already becoming over-protective. He asked, "Isn't there a spell that displays healed scars? Since I'm to look after him now, I wouldn't mind knowing just how bad it became."

Braithwaite nodded, "The spell will show any old scars that would have been permanent if not healed with magic. They will look as if they were freshly made, but without blood." He said the incantation, and there was a silence as stripes appeared across the boy's back, and a series of marks down each thigh. The healer touched a large mark on his shoulder, "That was a burn."

Snape ran a hand down his back, "Whippings, I'd say."

"His legs?"

"Cuts. It looks like someone was trying to cut words into him, but I can't make them out."

The healer lifted one arm and then the other, "More burns, and quite a deep cut."

"That might have been when his blood was taken for the benefit of Voldemort."

There was more when they turned him over, and Snape gently touched the clear word on his chest, _FREAK! _He finally said, "No wonder he doesn't trust. These would have been when he was small, as Dumbledore told me he intervened when he was around eight, after he tried to run away."

"So Dumbledore knew?"

"I was loyal to the headmaster for more than half my life. It seems I'm a very bad judge of character, Peter."

"We all admired him. Is it true he used Mind-Magic?"

"There's no proof, but when I think about the foolish mistakes he made... And yet nobody ever questioned his wisdom. He has to have used something!"

He turned to the Aurors, quiet in the corner, "We won't wake him, just take him to his room. I'll come in a little later, and please call me if he suffers pain again tonight." The scar images were fading quickly. Braithwaite, curious, cast the Sylph Virgo Spell, and said, "Red, to indicate that he's had full intercourse. The black streak indicates that it was not consensual. If my reading is correct, once he's truly sexually active, the black will gradually fade, and the red will become deeper."

Kingsley came forward, and said, in a forbidding voice, "We'll dress him now then, and take him back. I guess we'd best not mention just how thorough the examination was?"

Snape said sharply, "Of course not. It would upset him very much."

It was late, but in the staff room, the visiting witches and wizards were still in close conversation, all of them apparently determined to find a cure. Amelia Bones suddenly yawned, apologised, and then said, "It occurs to me that Gringotts' Curse Breakers might have a go."

Snape agreed, and added, "Don't forget to check them for the Dark Mark. No point handing him to a Death Eater on a platter."

"There can't be many left!"

"We don't know that. How many were just knocked out for a day or two?"

The Carlyle brothers looked at each other, and Larry raised an eyebrow. Vincent laughed. It had taken them a while to think of that. Larry's wife had died, and Vincent had been off work for a week. Not that the brothers were loyal Death Eaters, either of them. Vincent had accepted the mark as a very young man, and defected just ten days later. Larry had thought his late wife frankly foolish that she doted on the Monster. He suggested, "Dumbledore's ancestral home. Did he have a personal library?"

Amelia said she'd investigate, "I think it's being fought over by several distant relatives at the moment. There are no descendants."

Harry woke in the early hours of the morning. He felt exhausted and very weak, but the pain was minimal. He dragged himself up, and went to shower. It was obvious that the attempts to free him had failed, and yet he felt more optimistic than he had for weeks. They had tried. Snape had tried. He knew he'd tried. There had been that odd twist in his insides when Snape had made the spell. The spell had done something, or at least, it had come close to doing something. Snape wouldn't give up. He was convinced now, _ almost_ convinced. Snape would do his best for him, as best he could. Not that he was planning on confiding in him. He'd probably change his mind if he knew that if he chose, he could remember Voldemort's school days, his first murders, an early confrontation with Dumbledore, even knew exactly how to inflict a Dark Mark of his own if he chose. A shame that Voldemort didn't seem to have known anything about Binding Bracelets. Harry wondered again just exactly where Dumbledore had acquired them. They were undeniably a Dark Artefact. Illegal under Ministry rules, and yet there they were, encircling his wrists, looking oh so sickeningly handsome.

Snape was waiting for him when he returned to his room. He was expecting crying, maybe yelling. The boy had to be distressed with the failure, and further distressed when he told him their conclusions. He was resolved not to lie to the boy. Harry looked perfectly calm, replied that he felt very tired, but was in little pain, and agreed that bringing in Curse Breakers was an excellent idea. Snape added, "You have the Research Department working too, of course. They were very put out that the Bracelets defeated them."

"You came closest, I think."

Snape said regretfully, "I'm sorry I didn't do better." He looked frankly at Harry. "They're not just Binding Bracelets, you see. We think they are designed to destroy a wizard's magic, without killing the wizard. Already, it is unlikely that you have the power you once had."

Harry was silent for a moment, and then offered, "I never wanted to be special. I can be perfectly happy living as a Muggle. If it didn't hurt so much, if you just let me go, I'd be fine."

"The experts thought the process might be almost complete. The expectation is that even if they cannot be taken off, you will not suffer pain from them for much longer."

Harry touched a wrist-band, "Good."

Snape stood, "I am leaving supplies of potions for you to take when you need to. A mild pain reliever, a very strong pain reliever, and one that I hope will do the same job as a backrub, only a lot quicker. You should take that as soon as you feel the pain and tension start."

Harry looked at them dubiously, and Snape urged, "Use them. Merely because potions have been used against you does not mean they cannot be helpful. Until we either get rid of the wrist-bands, or the process is complete, there will be pain."

Harry said seriously, "I should have killed Dumbledore first, then Voldemort. I might have survived as a wizard then."

Only after Snape had gone did Harry give it some serious thought. _Had_ he lost his magic? He couldn't use it of course, but was it gone? Somehow he didn't feel it had gone. Testing, he extended a hand to the window, and tried to break the bars. Nothing happened to the bars, but he doubled up with the agony inside him, unable to restrain the scream. Jeremy and Kingsley were there straightaway, and a message was sent to Snape. Kingsley held Harry, who was struggling, still screaming, unable to think for the agony that gripped him.

Kingsley held him close, his deep voice rumbling, the warmth of his body comforting. Harry started to come out of it. His screams turned to sobs, his body shaking. Snape felt a surge of something like jealousy when he found Harry held like that. It had been something special to feel that he could give comfort with his touch, but it appeared that the boy was not particular who touched him. He guessed that Poppy was right. Harry was starved for physical affection, and she'd warned that he could be easy prey for anyone offering that, only providing he could overcome his lack of trust.

He stood, simply watching. After a while, Kingsley shifted Harry until he sat on his knee, firmly embraced, one arm rubbing his back. The pain had struck suddenly that time, and luckily didn't take long to go. Harry stayed in the warm arms, his face turned into the chest of the big Auror, his eyes closed. It made him look so young. A child.

Snape finally stirred, "Maybe just put him back to bed, Kingsley."

Gently, Kingsley gathered Harry up in his arms, and did just that. Harry opened his eyes, saw Snape there, but felt too weary to acknowledge him. He still had his magic. Snape was wrong. If it hadn't been there, caged, it could not have hurt like that. Maybe not a bad thing if they thought it gone. They couldn't see him as a threat if he was a Muggle, or not much more.

***chapter end***


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling_.

**

_**Chapter 8:**_

The midday Sunday dinner at the Weasleys was very generous. Molly Weasley always wanted as many of the family there as possible. Percy was there, though there had been some disagreements the previous year, when he'd appeared to think himself above his parents. Percy was very ambitious, and had recently attached his loyalty to Dolores Umbridge, the day he saw Fudge give her a surreptitious pat on the bottom. He couldn't see the attraction himself, but he made sure to support her views and to refer to his admiration for her in front of Fudge. Fudge's Senior Assistant was Amelia Bones, but Percy had a feeling that she would soon be shunted aside in favour of Umbridge. Office politics, struggles for power. They happened in all organisations, and were mostly won by the devious, usually at the expense of the competent.

Bill Weasley was also there, having returned to England in response to an urgent request from Severus Snape. He'd been away some time, had only just arrived, and had some catching up to do. "How's Ginny?" he asked.

His mother smiled dotingly as she heaped his plate with more food, "Prettier than ever, and just as popular."

"What about Ron and the twins?"

"The twins are into mischief as usual, but everyone loves them."

"I've often thought they were a lot brighter and more powerful than they've been given credit for."

"Well, they make everything a joke! The only thing they don't joke about is what happened to poor Harry."

"What about Harry? You told me once he was like another son."

Molly shook her head, "Unstable. And not as well supervised as he should be. The whole thing has affected his mind, poor boy. He refuses to have anything to do with Ron."

Bill was surprised, "Why?"

"He's not rational. When he was given an Order of Merlin, instead of accepting the honour, he threw it at the headmaster. Then that night, Dumbledore died. Very suspicious. They say that it could not have been Harry. Ron thinks it was."

Arthur put in, "We had a letter from him yesterday. Where is it Molly? Percy'll be interested as well."

Molly collected it, and scanned down it. "Here it is." She read aloud, "Harry went berserk last night and injured several younger girls, also John Pettit, who's a seventh year. I saw John afterwards, and he had bruises all over his face, quite badly hurt. Yet they say it wasn't Harry's fault, and the girls are in trouble, I guess for upsetting him. We're not supposed to upset him. John was sent home. We haven't heard yet whether he'll be expelled."

Arthur said, "I told Ron and Ginny to keep away from the boy."

Percy said quietly, "I suggested that last year. I think he's been unstable a long time, and it's a very good thing that his magic is Bound. He could be dangerous."

Bill asked mildly, "You don't give him credit for killing Voldemort then?"

Arthur laughed suddenly, "Someone said something yesterday, - that Harry was like a meal that gave him indigestion. How much does the meal deserve credit?"

Bill said, "Quite considerable indigestion the way I heard it. His body was burnt black, and all around there were more charred corpses."

"Exaggerated. I saw the body, and he was just a bit singed at the edges. The others had no marks at all on them. They were just dead, the same as Albus Dumbledore. They just fell dead."

The talk switched to cheerful chatter about whether Bill and Charlie would make it home for Christmas that year, and gossip about the 'noble' Pure-blood families, and their doings. Arthur and Molly were as Pure-blood as any, but the whispers of fraud had pushed them out of the clique. It had been hushed up, and Arthur had been paying back the money, a large sum every month for the past decade. The final repayment would soon be made, and maybe then they could hope to regain their place in society. Of their children, only Percy had some idea.

Sunday afternoon, Bill Weasley found Snape with Harry. He was in the sitting room between his bedroom and the Aurors' bedroom. There was a pile of correspondence on the table. He casually greeted Harry, and then nodded at Snape, "May I have a word?"

Snape was coldly angry when Bill asked if Harry had really 'gone berserk.' "He was attacked, totally without provocation. But some people refuse to believe that he's just an innocent child, who's been through a very bad time."

"So you think he's safe?"

"He used the minimum of force required to defend himself, and when authority appeared, he desisted straight away. The Aurors jumped to conclusions, and were about to drag him away and force calming potions down his throat. Kingsley and Jeremy are more reasonable, even fond of the boy."

"You want me to undo the spell?"

"Definitely. We think it's caused him quite a lot of damage already, irreversible damage. Our guess is that the spell that the headmaster set on the Binding Bracelets was intended to destroy his magic. They caused him pain from the beginning. Unfortunately, no-one believed him."

"My parents say he's unstable."

"He probably feels your parents betrayed his trust. They were there when he was force-fed the _Cerlikh__ P__otion,_ and led out for his enemy to rape him. Ron and Hermione were also there. It's to be expected that he doesn't want to associate with them."

"Were you there?"

"I was there. I thought the sacrifice justified. The difference was that I never pretended to care about him. All the same, I'm still surprised he appears to have granted me some trust."

Bill said, "Well, I'm an expert Curse-Breaker. I won't bother with what the books say should work. I'll work it out from scratch."

"Now?"

Bill nodded, "Now is fine with me."

"I'll collect Poppy. He was in a bad way last night."

"In pain?"

"Yes."

They found Harry sitting tense, waiting expectant. Bill suggested he sit down, inspected the Bracelets, and drew his wand. Harry glanced at Snape, who nodded. To begin with, Bill threw an all-embracing _Revelio. _He looked startled, and went to the door that led to the Aurors' bedroom. Another spell that showed glowing spots of white at two points on opposite sides of the door. "Blood magic?"

Harry said, irony in his voice, "It's so I don't murder the Aurors in the night. They're erected every night, like several others."

Snape said, "Blood magic is the only effective way of keying wards to a particular person. And I really _don't _think that Kingsley and Jeremy are afraid you might murder them in the night, Harry."

"No, I guess not. Bill, do you think you can do it?"

Bill said confidently, "If I can't, no-one can."

Bill couldn't. He tried for hours, with everything he knew. Only once did Harry feel the same sort of sensation as he had when Snape had come close. At least he didn't wind up in acute pain this time.

Snape assured him that they'd continue trying. Harry said, "Sirius Black. His library would have all sort of books of Dark Magic. Maybe I could ask him."

"You soundly rebuffed him last time you saw him, if you remember."

"You could explain to him I was under the influence of strong potions, and didn't know what I was doing."

"Did you?"

"Sometimes. Not always."

Snape asked curiously, "So how do you actually feel about him?"

Harry shrugged, "He can't help the way he is. I'll write a letter, see what he says."

Snape was surprised that Harry seemed to remain calm, even optimistic. On Monday he was able to present him with a document that stated he'd satisfactorily completed fifth year, and assured him that it was already recorded at the Ministry.

Harry asked, "Can they revoke that?"

"It's final. No matter what, you are regarded as a wizard."

"Will I be allowed to leave here eventually?"

"It's forbidden for the moment."

Harry fiddled with the Bracelets, and Snape asked, "How's the pain?"

"Not too bad."

"Have you taken any potions?"

"I will if I need to."

Snape nodded, "Good."

Harry looked up, "Professor Snape, I know you showed me some past mail. I was wondering if you intend to continue censoring my mail."

"I fully intend to _screen_ your mail. I see no need for you to be upset by crank-letters. However, I will not limit your information."

"There should be letters from Gringotts. I wrote to them at the beginning of the year."

"I will investigate on your behalf."

Harry gave him a questioning look, and Snape guessed at his thoughts. He said calmly, "A decade or so ago, there was a scandal about a Demter Guardian milking his ward's funds. On investigation, it turned out he was not the only one. There are a few who are still trying to pay back what they stole. There are strict controls now. A Demter Guardian _cannot_ profit by his position."

"If I cannot use magic, I won't be able to get to Gringotts."

"It takes little magic to access Diagon Alley. If it happens that you are left with no magic, I will help."

"Even after I'm of age?"

"As long as it's needed." Again, there was that voice of commitment.

Harry looked at him curiously. Professor Snape, who had always appeared to loathe him, and now it appeared he was the best, or maybe the _only_ friend he had. He commented, "Sirius didn't write back."

"Last I heard he was heavily involved with a young widow. He may not think he has the time to spare."

There was another episode of pain on Tuesday, and Snape took the time to massage him into calm again. He'd begun to think that it was the biggest reason for the improvement in Harry's mood. When Kingsley asked, he consulted with the nurse, who agreed that as long as any touch didn't stray into the sexual, it would do only good.

On Wednesday evening, the Carlyles visited again. They explained to Snape that they'd been forbidden to work on the project at work, but had been working out of hours, and Larry said, "I hate to be defeated."

Vince put in, "We'd hoped to access the so-called Forbidden Library, but were denied. The boss says that the Minister wants him freed only after the Bracelets have done their work."

Snape said, exasperated, "Why they think that Harry wants to be a Dark Lord himself, I'll never understand! He does not have that desire for power."

"I don't expect you've told the boy that his magic is being destroyed."

"Harry knows."

The Carlyles continued their attempts most of the night, though after the first hours, they used a spell that put Harry in a state of deep unconsciousness. The pain was apt to jerk him out of a normal stun, especially when it was Snape worked the spell. They thought they were close. They were _sure_ they were close, but when dawn came, Harry still wore the Bracelets. Madam Pomfrey visited him several times that night, concerned when he seemed to be fading.

Friday he was back at classes. It was not quite three weeks since Dumbledore had died, two months since Voldemort had died. Harry was tired and weak. The pain was a constant ache inside him, but at least didn't feel like he was being cut through any more. He still hadn't touched the potions that Snape had supplied. Just looking at them made him feel ill.

It was a double period of Defence, and Professor Trimble looked him up and down, "Time you actually started working, Mr. Potter. You can't go on lazing about."

Draco Malfoy drawled, "Why should he, Professor? He's not a wizard any more thanks to our late headmaster. The way I hear it, he'll never be a wizard again."

Harry glanced at Kingsley, who stood at the rear of the class. Jeremy was just outside. Pansy Parkinson leaned forward, "_Really,_ Draco? I hadn't heard that."

"They can't take the Bracelets off."

Pansy turned to the teacher, and said, with relish, "He shouldn't be at Hogwarts then, should he, Sir? If he's not a wizard, he doesn't belong here."

"Mr. Potter is a school student the same as the rest of you. There is no reason he shouldn't do the theory component of his classes, even if he cannot do magic for the moment." He looked back at Harry, "Pay attention, and start doing your homework. You're the same as anyone else, and should stop expecting special attention."

Harry collected his books, and said quietly, "I think I might go swimming now, Kingsley. They're right. I don't belong here."

Kingsley nodded, and opened the door for him.

Harry was walking fast, Kingsley beside him. He asked, "Will you get into trouble if you don't make me go to classes?"

"Severus was going to speak to you about that. He says you can still earn OWLs in Astronomy, Herbology, History and Care of Magical Creatures. Four OWLs, but the other classes, if you choose, you can cut them."

"I don't suppose I'm allowed to go off by myself?"

"No."

Harry entered the water cautiously to begin with. He'd never had the opportunity to learn to swim, and he had no Gillyweed this time to help him. He was wearing an ancient pair of shorts, as he had no swimmers. Kingsley and Jeremy stood to the side, and watched as he floundered about. Jeremy commented, "He's thinner than ever."

"The water's heated, luckily. He feels the cold."

"Next time, I'll put on my own swimmers, and give him some lessons."

"He doesn't need two of us on guard all the time. Maybe one on guard, the other more as a companion."

"What do you think about the nurse's idea of a routine backrub for him before bed?"

"Some might misunderstand."

"Some might. But you saw him yesterday when Severus offered. He said he wasn't in pain, and it wasn't necessary, but it did him good."

"He didn't argue very hard, I noticed."

"So?"

"It must be very hard to know that an important part of yourself is being gradually destroyed. Anything that helps."

"We won't broadcast it."

"No."

Harry didn't swim on the weekend. The pool was very popular, and he didn't belong in the throng of chattering teenagers. But Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, during class times, he was in the pool, each time enjoying it more. He felt happier, and began to eat more. Something would happen. Snape would fix it.

****

Dolores Umbridge wasn't particularly concerned about Harry Potter one way or the other, but she'd chosen to foster Fudge's fear of his potential power breaking loose, even hinting that his anger at the Ministry could mean more mass killings. She was smug when the Minister put her in overall charge of him, and said, "You can rely on me, Cornelius. There will be no chance that he'll break loose."

"I always said that I would revoke permission for the Binding Bracelets to be removed if he caused trouble, but if I did it without cause... I cannot appear weak, you understand."

"Of course not. You had poor advice." She smiled, and said condescendingly, "We can't blame Amelia, of course. Just that her compassion is sometimes unrealistic."

"One has to be realistic."

"Leave it to me."

Thursday, late morning, and Harry managed to lap the pool, grinning at his own achievement. There could be good things, even now. When they were convinced his magic was gone, then they'd let him go. He'd be Ricky Drayton again, and run on the beach, and be friends with Chris. He might even get a tattoo, like Chris had. It wasn't so bad to be a Muggle, and the wrist-bands scarcely hurt any more.

Kingsley remarked to Jeremy, "He doesn't seem to realise that the pain stopping means that his magic is gone."

"What's going to happen to him?"

Kingsley shrugged, and when Harry pulled himself out of the pool, said, "Come to me, Harry. I'll work the stiffness out of your shoulders."

Harry wriggled his shoulders. They were not at all stiff, but he loved feeling the competent hands touching him. He went to Kingsley, and sat down in front of him. It was not the first time he'd done this, plus every night, one or other of them gave him a back massage, or sometimes Snape. It was what was keeping the pain at bay.

Professor McGonnagal inspected the signed instructions shown her by Dolores Umbridge. There was nothing she could do. The boy was already lost, without magic. His power broken. There was no place at Hogwarts for a Muggle. She didn't know what was to become of Harry Potter. It was not her responsibility, and she was relieved that it was not her responsibility. She sent for Snape.

When Umbridge said that she wished to speak to the boy, Snape replied, "He's probably in the new swimming pool, Dolores. He likes to swim and there's no point in making him go to subjects like Charms and Defence. It hurts him that he cannot do what all the others are doing."

"I spoke to Madam Lovegood. She said that by now the Bracelets would have done their job."

"They are not hurting him any more. Regrettably, I feel the lack of pain probably indicate that they _have_ done their job."

"We don't know for sure, though."

"If they cannot be removed, I guess we'll never know for sure."

Snape had taken her measure, and did not tell her of his late-night study sessions, desperately trying to find a way of removing the cursed things before Harry was left with nothing at all. Few wizards routinely used powerful magic, and every wizard lost a lot of his power when he became very old or sick. He might never be much respected, but Harry could live as a wizard, just as long as he had _something_ left.

He cursed to himself as they entered the warmed pool building to see the boy, nearly nude, seated between Kingsley's legs, and having his neck and shoulders rubbed. The timing could scarcely have been worse. Umbridge almost swelled with satisfaction, "Well!"

Kingsley looked up, and stood away from Harry, apparently unperturbed.

Snape said coolly, "Harry, get dressed, and then return here."

Umbridge tapped her toe, as Harry disappeared in the direction of the change-room, then wheeled on the Auror, "What is the meaning of this quite inappropriate behaviour."

"There was no inappropriate behaviour. Harry suffers muscle strain, like cramps. The school nurse recommends massage as a simple means of controlling the pain."

Snape said smoothly, "Even now, the idea of potions or spells alarms him. He's been too much hurt. Madam Pomfrey supervises the evening backrubs, though her own back is not up to the task of doing it herself."

Umbridge looked from one to the other, and said, in freezing tones, "This treatment will cease forthwith. It is not appropriate, and whatever the intent, it is not good for him to be spoiled."

Kingsley was incredulous, "_Spoiled! _The boy has been punished non-stop since he was brought back here!"

Harry took a tremendous dislike to Dolores Umbridge. He didn't show it. In a position of weakness, one had to be devious, and it seemed this woman now had control over his life. Snape was still his Demter Guardian, as once given, that position was not easily revoked, but Umbridge laid down the rules. He was to go to every lesson, the guards would be changed regularly, he was not allowed to contact anyone outside Hogwarts, especially the press, and if he was in pain, he could take potions. He would _not_ be treated like some sort of a lap-dog to be stroked. Umbridge finished, "And you behave! Any deviation from the rules laid down, and the guards will resume routine use of potions."

She regarded the expressionless face, "Well, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, Madam Umbridge."

Umbridge looked him over, a smug expression on her face. Harry wondered if he had his magic back, could he really simply make her die? Not that he would, but he thought he could. But maybe he was just being silly. Maybe his magic _was _gone or nearly gone, and he was wilfully blinding himself to it.

There was no backrub that night, and the next morning, he was introduced to new Aurors, John Dawlish and Conroy Landen. They looked supremely competent, fit, and pitiless. Harry couldn't imagine these giving him swimming lessons, or trying to ease his pain.

His spirits plummeted in the next few days, his optimism vanished. He missed Jeremy and Kingsley, and told himself not to be stupid. They were Aurors, had helped give him to Voldemort, had stood by as he was tortured with Binding Bracelets. Just because their hands had been big and warm and kind didn't mean a thing. What was to happen to him? All those lessons in magic. What was the point? He'd never be able to work magic again. The pain didn't return the way it had been. It was just a continuous ache, not severe. Snape had another go at removing the Bracelets, but there was no sensation at all. Harry thought it was too late. They'd done their work, but when he put it to Snape that he was no possible threat any more and should be allowed just to go, Snape said that he was not allowed to leave.

John Pettit returned to Hogwarts. His father and uncle had spoken to Minister Fudge, and as there was no proof that he'd used an illegal curse, he was free to try again if he chose. His baleful look followed Harry whenever he saw him, but Harry began to spend his evenings in his own sitting room. The new Aurors didn't care if he did that. He started having nightmares again, with the result that they put a Silencing Shield on his room. For them, it was a tedious assignment, but it was only for a fortnight, and then another two would take over, maybe the Vanstones again.

Harry went to visit Hedwig, as he did most days, though he was not allowed unsupervised correspondence. He found her dead on the floor. Lisa Smythe passed him in the corridor not long later, and grinned at him. He turned to her, furious, but a heavy hand on his shoulder reminded him that he was helpless.

***chapter end***


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling_.

**

_**Chapter 9:**_

Ten days after Dolores Umbridge laid down the new rules, Harry was silent, did no schoolwork, but hadn't been in any trouble. Snape was very anxious. Harry Potter had a temper, and it was being tested too far. He was expecting an explosion, but didn't know what to do about it, except to plead with him to be patient. He didn't know what the boy was thinking. He'd become very good at concealing his thoughts.

Roddy Liddicombe put his idea to John Pettit, "Get rid of him once and for all. If he's seen to be violent, they'll probably shift him to St. Mungo's, and we'll never see him again."

Roddy was younger brother to Peter Liddicombe, who'd been expelled as a Death Eater. His best friend was Blake Brooks, who'd been expecting to take the Mark in the next intake of new Death Eaters. They were in sixth year.

Pettit said doubtfully, "There are two Aurors. We can't take down two Aurors."

"Of course we can. We hit them in the back." Even Death Eaters were much inclined to go for the traditional face-to-face duel, Aurors even more so. It was the reason there was a high death toll among them.

"I tried to hit Harry in the back. I'm not sure how I missed."

"We'll need something to distract them, someone to call them to where we want them."

"Is it worth it? If we get caught attacking Aurors..."

"We won't get caught, and no matter what Harry says, they probably won't believe him."

"Obliviate? Can you do it?" The spell to change memory was supposed to be very strictly controlled, but a lot of young men learned it from older men, along with the anti-conception spell. It was for when they raped Muggles.

Pettit said, "Wizards are supposed to be a lot harder to successfully obliviate than Muggles."

Liddicombe shrugged, then laughed, "So if we mess up his mind, are we worried?"

There was more detailed planning, and a few more were roped in as lookouts and decoys, but no others were willing to actively participate. Draco Malfoy was a surprise. Not only did he refuse to participate, he stopped almost all the Slytherins. Liddicombe was Hufflepuff, Pettit was Gryffindor, Brooks was Slytherin. It was Inter-House cooperation, exactly as Dumbledore used to preach now and then. Quite a few people were aware that an attack on Harry and his bodyguards was imminent, but no-one told anyone in authority. Blake Brooks was a young man to be very careful of, and had assumed leadership.

Tuesday, and Harry was on his way to the Transfiguration class. The corridor was oddly quiet, but the Aurors didn't seem to notice. A girl's scream echoed from a classroom, and they stopped dead. Harry started to back away. That scream was not genuine, and where was everybody? Dawlish grabbed his upper arm, hard enough to bruise. "Oh, no you don't, Potter. We investigate, and you come too."

Harry gave him a look of acute dislike, but didn't object. Two fully qualified Aurors should have no trouble handling anything that school students could dish out.

The Aurors walked fast into a classroom from where the scream had seemed to come. There was another scream now, and a sound that could have been a scuffle. A girl's voice again, "No! Please...."

Dawlish snapped, "The office at the back," and started to hurry toward it.

Harry whipped around at a sound behind him, managed to wrench his arm free, and ducked and rolled, avoiding a spell. Dawlish cursed, and lunged for him, inadvertently avoiding the stunner aimed at his back. Still he was slow to realise, and was hit by a second stunner. Landen was already down, and neither had seen the ones who stunned them.

Harry tackled Liddicombe, and managed to bring him down and take his wand, then threw himself to the floor again as a spell hurtled towards him, the incantation for a Semi-Paralysis, rather than a Stunner or something to seriously hurt. There was no time to consider motives. Harry leapt for the door, dodging another spell. John Pettit blocked him, his wand aimed directly at him. Harry kicked his hand, sending the wand flying, grabbing it out of the air, as neatly as if it had been a disarming spell. He raised it as if to stab, and went for Pettit. Pettit hesitated for a fatal instant, was struck hard on the jaw, and fell, dazed. Blake Brooks aimed carefully from a distance, and as Harry ran out the door, he was brought down by a Semi-Paralysis.

They were wary of him. None went near, but Brooks carefully levitated him back into the room. Harry pulled himself up, and leaned against the wall, sitting. He felt better sitting. Liddicombe and Brooks both had their wands on him, unwavering, but stayed at a respectful distance. Pettit slowly got up, snarling. Looking straight at him, defiant, angry, Harry snapped his wand. Pettit yelled and took a quick step forward. Brooks said, quickly, "He'll suffer, don't worry."

There was not a thing that Harry could do, paralysed below the waist. The pain was beginning, that he hadn't felt for a while, the tearing, cutting pain inside him. He kept it to himself. He assumed he was to be killed, or at least badly hurt. His face showed nothing.

The Aurors lay where they were felled. Harry felt a brief satisfaction when Liddicombe went across, and kicked into Landen's side. Brooks smiled, "You're going to get the blame, you see, Potter. We'll leave them badly bruised, they'll blame you, and you'll be shipped off to a closed ward at St. Mungo's. Probably never see the sun again." He glanced at the others, "You do the Aurors, including faces, and I'll keep Potter covered."

Harry clenched his fists as Dawlish took a nasty kick on the head. The pain was increasing. He had to fight, but was helpless.

Brooks warned, "Be careful, Roddy. We can't risk them being badly injured."

Liddicombe continued to kick, but less severely, and avoiding his victim's head. Harry was relieved. He despised the Aurors, but seeing them hurt.... Dawlish groaned slightly. Brooks snapped, "Stun him again, then the other." A normal stun lasted usually about a half hour unless lifted. There were variations that lasted longer, but were more difficult to do.

The Aurors were re-stunned. There was blood now from Dawlish, whose nose appeared to be broken. Harry was very tense, ready to take the slightest opportunity. He was Harry Potter. He was a fighter.

Pansy Parkinson put her head around the door, "Hurry up. It's change of classtime in five minutes."

Brooks looked into Harry's eyes, grinned, and started to utter the single word, _"Obliviate!" _

Harry threw himself to the side, surprised to find he could suddenly move his legs. Maybe the spell had worn off. He had no wand, could not work magic. He ran. Pettit aimed at his back, but Brooks said, "Leave him. There's nowhere for him to go." He glanced around, ensuring that no evidence was left to connect them with the Aurors, and said to Pettit, "Treat the bruise on your jaw, quick as you can. No-one should see you bruised."

"He took my _wand!"_

"Replace it as soon as possible, preferably without telling _anyone."_

"It was my _wand!"_

"Surely your family keeps a few spares on hand, just in case."

Pettit sighed, "I'll ask my father."

"Discreetly." He looked around, "Not a word, from _anyone!"_

Harry still ran, wanting to escape the castle before they knew he was gone. There was no point protesting his innocence. There never had been any point, from the time he'd been very small. Quite often, even trying just got you hurt more. A few students saw him, and Filch, who started to yell something about no running in the corridors before seeing who he was, and ducking away out of sight instead. In each hand, Harry held a half of the broken wand. He'd use them as weapons if he had to. No-one was stopping him now.

Without pausing for breath, he fled deeper and deeper into the Forbidden Forest, avoiding the place he'd been found before. The pain was increasing, and he started staggering under the weight of it, finally curling himself into a ball between thick high roots of a parasitic Fig Tree. He could _see_ it, the pain inside him, a jagged ring holding him helpless. A series of rings, holding him, like claws or sharp teeth. He felt a fury at the unfairness of it all, at the Aurors, at Dumbledore and the Ministry, and most of all at the searing pain of the magic of the Binding Bracelets. He screamed at it in his fury. It broke, shattered. But then the pain totally overwhelmed him, and he started to thresh, still screaming, and then fell into a full fledged epileptic fit.

***chapter end***


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling_.

**

_**Chapter 10, Final Chapter:**_

Many beings lived in the Forbidden Forest, both magical and non-magical. Harry Potter was far too close to the Acrumantula Colony, but when one of the giant spiders came near, investigating possible prey, a black centaur drew his bow. The Acrumantula knew the centaurs well, and feared them, with good reason. There were only about a dozen of them left since the centaurs had decided to exterminate them.

It was the middle of the night before Harry sat up, and grasped his head with a soft moan. _Such_ a headache, but he looked at the Binding Bracelets in surprise. They were still around his wrists, but their power was broken. He glanced at a leaf, shining in the moonlight, and vanished it. He could do magic again! He was free! Now for a proper escape. Silently, the centaur moved back into the forest, out of sight. It was against the creed of the centaur to interfere in the affairs of wizards, but protecting the poor boy from the spiders, - certainly that much he could do.

Harry stood, taking stock, and wrinkling his nose. There was blood on his chin, and he tenderly touched his own tongue, finding it very sore. The smell of vomit, and his trousers were wet. Had he fitted then? More importantly, could he apparate? He had to go, but there were the wards, which would sound an alarm if he crossed them. Maybe better if they thought him dead.

He made a trial apparation, just a few yards, and found it not difficult, even though it made his head hurt worse. One must never apparate when sick, or especially tired, or when drunk. It was drummed into every learner. Harry had not yet learned to apparate, but he was not dependent on just his own learning.

It was a time for cunning. He had to sacrifice his clothing, but Harry thought it worthwhile. When he apparated to Cornwall, close to Kreighley Beach Home, he wore only the Muggle T-shirt he'd worn under his uniform shirt, for warmth. It was twisted around his waist, as a loin-cloth.

****

It was not until the afternoon of the following day that Hagrid found the evidence of Harry Potter's death, and reported to the headmistress. Snape and McKenzie were with her. Hagrid sniffled, and said gruffly, "I haven' touched nothin'. Thought you'd want to see."

McKenzie said, "I certainly do wish to see, but I'll check on how the investigations are coming first."

Snape said again, "I do not believe that Harry attacked anyone unless he was first attacked. He is _not _aggressive, not unstable, and certainly not liable to go berserk as that foolish woman suggests."

McKenzie admitted, "That he might have defeated two fully trained Aurors is a little hard to believe."

McGonnagal put in, "He's not even full-grown. And he was always small for his age."

McGonnagal remained behind, but Snape and McKenzie followed Hagrid as he strode through the dangerous forest until he indicated a torn and bloodied uniform cape. He said heavily, "The spiders live in a hollow not far away. We won't find a body."

There was more, the uniform trousers and a jumper, torn and bloodstained. Shoes, blood spattered. A few hundred yards further, and Snape picked up a pair of cheap underpants, and wrinkled his nose at the pungent odour of urine. He could almost see the poor boy, facing the spiders, and wetting himself in his terror.

McKenzie scouted, and called, "Here!"

They stood silent, staring at a large pool of blood. Snape bent and picked up a half wand, the broken end covered in blood. He said, his voice muffled a moment, "He fought." The blood of the giant spider is dark and glutinous, much more so than that of a human. The blood on the broken wand was dark and glutinous, the pool of blood almost black. Other splashes, a bit further away, were just dried brown, like human blood. Snape turned away, more distressed than he wanted people to know. The child who'd relaxed under his massaging hands, who'd giggled as Dumbledore floundered in the water, who'd been led out to Voldemort, shining white, declaring his innocence to the world. He was dead. The evidence was incontrovertible.

Once the story was told, Professor Trelawney horrified her students by telling about a vision she'd had. According to her, she'd seen the last moments of Harry Potter, dying valiantly, using his only weapons, two broken pieces of a wand, trying to defend himself against the spiders. And she shook her head, "The poor, poor Child of Destiny. He was always marked for death. I tried to warn him, and he laughed."

Neville said, "According to you, he was going to die every few months! You were wrong then, and I don't believe that you saw _anything! _You just put your story together from what you were told."

Trelawney pulled herself up to her full height, and said, "Detention with Mr. Filch, I will not have such impertinence in my class!" But she didn't repeat her gruesome story all that day.

There was a minute's silence for Harry that night, and there was talk of making the swimming pool the 'Harry Potter Memorial Pool,' but the talk died quite quickly. Harry Potter had become an embarrassment, and most of those who'd had anything to do with the way he was treated were happy to put the whole sorry affair out of their minds.

McKenzie had the half-wand checked. The _Priori Incantatum_ spell wouldn't work, but it was firmly identified as that belonging to John Pettit. Pettit tried to deny it, asserting that the wand he was using was the wand he'd always had. It seemed he didn't know how scrupulous were the records kept by reputable wand-makers. Harry was cleared of any wrongdoing. Pettit knew enough to keep his mouth firmly shut and no others were implicated in the plot. His family did not object when he was expelled, only pointed out that he'd best set about earning his own living.

For no reason at all, Snape began to doubt Harry's death. He returned to the scene of the scattered clothing, and took several samples of blood, especially including the darker, thicker blood that had been assumed to have been spider blood. After several hour's painstaking analysis, he came to his conclusion. There was no evidence of spider blood in the area. It was human blood. But so much? The boy had to be dead. If not dead, where was he? He could not have escaped the grounds. The wards around the external walls had not been compromised, and apparation within the grounds of Hogwarts was not possible. Could Harry possibly be still living in the forest? If so, Hagrid didn't know. Hagrid had become very drunk, mourning his mistake in providing his pet giant spider with a mate. 'Wasn' only Harry, you know, Sev'rus,' he'd said, 'There were wolves and a centaur once, and deer. Too many younguns, and they needed food. Can' blame anythin' for wantin' to eat now, can yer? But the unicorns. Terr'ble to see unicorns disappearin'.'

In spite of the evidence, Snape clung to hope. He wanted Harry to be alive, and Gringotts should not close his vault. He especially didn't want his money and possessions to go to Petunia Dursley as the next of kin. The goblins were uncharacteristically obliging, stating firmly that as there was no body, there was no proof of death. In seven years, not before, they would presume death. And the goblin had added, "If he'd been one of us, we would have treated him as a hero, not a criminal!"

"Yes."

The goblin looked at the pain in the man's eyes, and added, with unusual kindness, "He might forgive one day, and return."

Maybe he would. A week later, Snape saw him in a group of uniformed school boys. A large boy grabbed him by the neck, but Harry whirled on him, fists raised. A second later, and another boy stood by Harry's side, also threatening the would-be bully, who made a jocular remark, and pretended he hadn't meant anything by it. Snape put himself where Harry would see him, the boy gave him a scant nod, and turned away. He still wore the Binding Bracelets.

Severus Snape nodded back, but turned away. He was thrilled to see the boy, but he'd do what he should have done when he'd first found him at the Beach Home, just leave him alone.

****

Harry, known as Ricky, pushed back at Chris as they raced along the beach. It was the middle of January, and very cold, but he was far more fit now than he'd been at the beginning of December when he'd apparated out of the Forbidden Forest. Chris panted, "The Cave!" and Harry turned his steps up into the soft sand, striving to beat Chris. It turned into a wrestling match, the two boys laughing and rolling in the sand under glowering Wintery skies. Nearby was a hollow in the cliff, barely large enough for two boys to shelter from a rain storm, 'The Cave.' At last, they stopped, panting, lying on their backs, hands behind their heads.

After a while, Chris said, "Ricky, will you answer a question?"

Harry answered casually, "Probably not."

"Does it hurt when a man puts it in?"

"It only happened to me once, and I scarcely remember. Drugged, I think."

"They say you were used for sex, all the time."

"No, just the once."

"You came back looking awful."

Harry turned his head, grinning, "I'm good now. Very good. It's a good place."

"That was a mean-looking bugger who came for you that time."

Harry chuckled, remembering what Snape had said, - that he was the wrong gender, and too skinny besides. It had been six weeks, and he was still thin, in spite of his very healthy appetite. The food was plain, but plentiful. His clothing was basic, but everything he needed was provided. It was a good place, and Davies had done as he'd promised. His return had been kept very quiet.

Chris said, "Mr. Clark says he'll give me fifty pounds and a Nintendo if I let him."

"I wouldn't if I were you. I was sore for days afterwards. Better to do without a Nintendo."

"Money'd be good."

"I guess." Money would be good, and it would be great if he had a computer, and could buy better clothes. Even just a chocolate bar now and then. But Harry said, "No-one here hits us, we have enough to eat, we get to go to school, and we're not in any danger. You'd be a fool to spoil it, Chris."

Chris turned to look at his friend with an immense curiosity. Ricky was a puzzle. There were times when he acted like a six-year-old, when they'd been to a funfair, for example, and times like this, when he looked into the distance with an immense sadness. He still had weekly physical checkups, but they'd given up making him see the therapist. He refused to talk about his past, even to the police. Chris never wondered about the decorative wrist-bands that Ricky wore. He only ever noticed them if he happened to catch his hand when they wrestled, and then forgot them straight after.

McKenzie noticed them, and gave a sigh of relief. Harry Potter was effectively a Muggle, apparently perfectly content to be a Muggle, and he was alive. He was happy to know he was alive. It had to have been Severus Snape who'd freed him. He may have been a brilliant man in many ways, but that pretense of grieving, - a little over-done he'd thought. Snape had a reputation as a _cold_ man, unfeeling. The boy wasn't doing any harm. McKenzie decided to leave him in peace and tell no-one that Harry Potter was alive.

He couldn't help himself. When next he saw Snape, he made a few hints about his Demter Ward. Snape remained inscrutable, but a few days later, went again to see Harry. This time Harry crossed to him and asked coolly, "You wanted me?"

Snape nodded at the Binding Bracelets, "You're still wearing them."

"The one who helped me, - he made a spell so that Muggles don't notice them."

"Do you want anything?"

"Warn me if they're coming for me?"

"I'll do that. It's presumed you're dead."

Harry smiled slightly, "My name is Ricky."

"There is a Potter Manor. You might like to change your mind when you're older."

Harry nodded, "One day I might marry, and have children. They'd need to go to Hogwarts, I guess, and it wouldn't be right to deny them their birthright."

"Anything you need, write to me, Muggle post. I'll give you the address."

"My photograph album? You'll need to make a charm to freeze the pictures."

Snape nodded, "Certainly."

Harry said suddenly, "And a Nintendo. Can you take that much money out of my vault?"

"What's a Nintendo?"

"A Muggle toy."

"I'll organise it."

"Thank you."

Snape nodded, awkward. Harry suddenly grinned, "I should have done it last Summer. I wouldn't glow white any more. There's a girlfriend."

Snape laughed, "Good."

He guessed it was as Harry told him months before, that he could be perfectly happy living as a Muggle in a Muggle world. With Voldemort gone, and Dumbledore gone, Harry would have been the most powerful wizard in England. Could it _really_ not bother him that he'd lost his magic? He'd referred to a helper, who'd made the Cloaking Magic on the wrist-bands. McKenzie had assumed that he'd been the helper. If not himself, then who? Kingsley? Jeremy? Maybe both? Sirius even? Or maybe there was no helper. Maybe the most powerful wizard in England had broken the magic himself. It was impossible. Snape knew that, but indulged himself in the daydream. He liked to think that the Child of Light had emerged triumphant.

****

___**The End.**_

_**The Sacrifice Series continues in '**__**The Demter Guardian**__**.'**_


End file.
